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She sat down on the nearest chair ; . . . she had difhculty in 
keeping herself quiet. 


Page 262. 





CATALINA: ART STUDENT 


BY 

L. T. MEADE 

AUTHOR OF “stories FROM T^K DIARY OF A DOCTOR,” “A WORLD 
OF GIRLS,” “ PALACE BEAUTIFUL,” ETC.- 





I\ 


WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

W. BOUCHER 





PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

1897 




Copyright, 1896, 

BY 

J. B. Lippincott Company. 



Electrotyped and Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U.S.A. 






CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

In the Great Studio 7 

CHAPTER II. 

The Professor’s Tea 23 

CHAPTER III. 

The Professor’s Family 31 

CHAPTER IV. 

Seven O’Clock Breakfast 51 

CHAPTER V. 

The Forde Scholarship 59 

CHAPTER VI. 

Father and Child 81 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Laurel Crown of Fame 93 

3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

A Forlorn Hope iib 

CHAPTER IX. 

Little Knight-Errant i 44 

CHAPTER X. 

The Journey to Manchester 164 

CHAPTER XL 

Bearding the Ogre 183 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Dinner Dress 209 

CHAPTER XIII. 

■ Taking the Bull by the Horns 220 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Little Victor 230 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Worth of Gold 240 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Caricatures again . 251 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XVII. 

PAGE 

In Trouble 264 

CHAPTER XVIIL 

To THE Rescue 276 • 

CHAPTER XIX. 

George 289 

CHAPTER XX. 

Mrs. Gillespie’s Boarding-House 302 

CHAPTER XXL 

The Luckiest Girl 314 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

She sat down on the nearest chair; . . . she had difficulty in keep- 
ing herself quiet Frontispiece 

Without uttering a word, Catalina put down her tray 28 

“ Rhoda, why do you talk in that tone ?” 70 

There was an attic which Catalina had all to herself at the very top 

of the house 85 

“ No, I want this bunch; I have only got one shilling” 124 

Rose was helping Catty to fill some vases with flowers 154 

“ I am Catalina Gifford ; please are you Mr. Ell worthy ?” . . • . 186 
“You are there. Catty,” said Mrs. Gifford. “I have come to say 

something to your father” 238 


CATALINA. 


CHAPTER 1. 

IN THE GREAT STUDIO. 

It was the largest School of Art in England. There 
were classes both for men and women, both for old and 
young. The Art professors numbered six, and there 
were also assistant professors, and even Art pupils raised 
now to the rank of assistant teachers. There was no 
possible branch of Art which was not attended to, gently 
fostered, and allowed to grow apace in the great Randall 
School. The huge building itself was very imposing. 
It occupied a great square with a large quadrangle in 
the middle. There was grass in the centre of the quad- 
rangle and walks all round. In the building itself were 
rooms for the head professors and their families, but the 
pupils and the junior professors lived, most of them, in 
boarding-houses, just outside the square in which the 
school was. 

Most of the boarding-houses were owned by the junior 
professors ; they boarded the pupils, and managed to eke 
out their own salaries in a very comfortable and satisfac- 
tory manner by so doing. The Art pupils were of all 
sorts : some of them noisy, happy, careless ; some again 

7 


8 


CA TALINA. 


intensely earnest, and absorbed over their work ; some 
idle, and merely looking to the school as a pleasant 
means of passing an idle hour, as an excuse for coming 
to live in London, as a reason for avoiding the dulness 
of a country home. There were several of the girl Art 
students who came to the Randall School for really no 
other purpose than to avoid living at home; but amongst 
the lads, most had some earnest point of view, and looked 
eventually to make Art their means of livelihood. 
Amongst the girl students, too, there were more than a 
few who felt very solemn over the whole thing, and did 
their very utmost to make the most of the great ad- 
vantages offered to them. 

There was no branch of Art which was not attended 
to in the Randall School ; there were distinct depart- 
ments not only for the study of the figure with all its 
vast requirements, but also departments where modelling 
in clay from the human figure, and the making of medals 
was attended to ; there were yet again other departments 
where the newest and latest rules, with regard to the 
great and ever-growing profession of Black and White, 
were rendered intelligible to apt pupils ; and of late 
there was a large new department, second only to the 
figure in importance, where animal painting was the 
order of the day. The study of the living animal was a 
decidedly new departure in the Randall School. The 
idea had been first propounded by one of the youngest 
and cleverest of the professors. As a matter of course, 
it had been pooh-poohed and cast aside as not possible, 
but one of the visiting professors, a very important R.A., 
and a celebrated animal painter himself, had suddenly 
thought well of the idea ; he had cast in his vote in the 


IN THE GEE AT STUDIO. 


9 


right direction, and the Art committee had unanimously 
carried it. A branch of the school where animal paint- 
ing could be thoroughly well taught was speedily opened, 
and proved almost directly a great success. Here the 
horse and dog principally, but also the cow, the donkey, 
and even the domestic cat, came in for a fair share of the 
intelligent regard of the students. 

Arrangements were made with the Zoological Gardens 
to allow the pupils all the advantages of studying there ; 
in short, every opportunity was given to the young as- 
pirants of this delightful branch of Art, and the school 
for animal painting bade fair to be one of the most pop- 
ular of the great Art College. 

On a certain afternoon in the middle of a hot summer, 
the silence inside one of the large studios of the animal 
school of painting was so great that one might almost 
hear a pin drop. From forty to fifty girls were all seated 
as closely together as possible, busily absorbed in paint- 
ing and sketching in charcoal a beautiful race-horse, 
which, with its attendant groom, stood close by. A 
boar-hound of immense proportions lay at a little dis- 
tance from the horse, and a few of the students were 
trying to transfer his form to their canvas or paper, but 
most of the girls were absorbed over the fascinating 
occupation of sketching the horse. This was the busiest 
hour of the whole day. Two professors were moving 
softly about the room, and an assistant master was help- 
ing one or two of the least foremost of the pupils. In 
another studio beyond, which could be just discernible 
through its curtained doors, a number of lads varying in 
ages from fourteen to twenty were also engaged in copy- 
ing an animal from the life. To the left of the girls’ 


10 


CATALINA. 


studio, a flight of stairs led to studios where the study 
of the animal cast was going rapidly forward. 

The professors moved gently from easel to easel. 
This morning was certainly one of great excitement. 
The visiting professor, Edward Forde, A.R.A., was 
present, and each student was eagerly longing for a 
word, a look, even a glance of recognition. He was a 
tall, dark man, of about thirty-five years of age ; his face 
was tanned with the heat of many southern suns, and 
his whole appearance denoted foreign extraction. This 
branch of the school was essentially his own ; it was he 
who had first thought of it, and who had worked it up 
to its present state of perfection. 

An eager, dark-eyed girl of about fifteen years of age 
watched him as he walked along. He was still a good 
way from her easel; nevertheless, she hoped that he 
would look at her efforts. He stopped before the easel 
of a tall, bright, flashy-looking girl with red hair, and 
the dazzling complexion which generally accompanies 
the colour. She was dashing away boldly at her picture, 
putting in broad touches, and making on the whole an 
impressive result ; he bent over her, said not the slightest 
word of encouragement, but suggested, more by an ex- 
pressive motion of his hand than by any word, an easy 
way to overcome a grave difficulty. Her eyes beamed 
with intelligence, she filled her brush with paint anew, 
and continued her difficult task. 

The girl who was seated rather to the front kept on 
watching Professor Forde with eager eyes. She had 
not yet been promoted to colour, and was endeavouring 
to convey the likeness of a boar-hound to her paper. 
Her efforts in charcoal were bold and striking enough 


IN THE GREAT STUDIO. 


II 


to show even to the most casual observer that she pos- 
sessed a great deal of latent talent, but it was also 
evident that at the present moment her knowledge was 
small. 

The race-horse shuffled his delicate feet, he deliber- 
ately moved the weight of his body from his right foot 
to his left. By so doing he upset the point of view of 
every student in the room. Some of the girls were, 
however, prepared for this contingency; they imme- 
diately changed the canvas or paper on which they were 
working for another which lay by its side. On the 
second canvas or paper they instantly sketched the 
horse from his new attitude, intending to come back 
to their former sketches, the moment he changed his 
feet again; thus these girls worked at two pictures 
at the same time. This was also an idea of Professor 
Forde’s, and he smiled at a thin, anxious-looking girl, 
when he saw that she had taken advantage of his sug- 
gestion. 

“ That is well done. Miss Carlton,” he said ; I see 
you are not inclined to waste a moment of your valuable 
time.” 

No, Professor, I want to get on,” she replied. Her 
words came out in a very low voice, and a flood of crim- 
son swept over her face. Several of the neighbouring 
students gave her a glance, half jealous, half admiring. 
Professor Forde had actually said that Jessie Carlton 
had done something well; she was immediately the 
heroine of the hour. 

Meanwhile, the youngest girl shuffled her feet un- 
easily; she glanced up at the clock; it wanted five 
minutes to one. At one o’clock there was recess and 


12 


CATALINA, 


an hour for lunch, at two the school began again and 
went on without interruption until five. Professor Forde 
would leave almost immediately. Oh, if he would only 
come and speak to her ! The last time he had visited 
the school he had done so ; he had stood over her easel 
for a brief moment, and corrected a refractory limb with 
a single sweep of his charcoal. Then Catalina had gone 
home with flushed cheeks and a beating heart, to tell her 
father and mother and her sisters and brother that Pro- 
fessor Forde had actually given her a sotipgon of encour- 
agement. They were all pleased to hear this, and spoke 
of it by-and-by to their several friends. Her father in 
particular was more than pleased, and Catalina would do 
anything in all the world for him. Would the Professor 
speak to her to-day ? He was really not far away from 
her easel; there were only three girls between him and 
her. Catalina could not help giving these girls a wither- 
ing glance. They would never be artists ; they did not 
know the meaning of the word. Oh ! surely the Pro- 
fessor must understand, he must guess how badly, how 
very badly she wanted him to tell her what was the 
matter with that boar-hound’s front paw. Try as she 
would, she could not make those delicate toes come 
right. There was something wrong with the perspective, 
and just a touch from an experienced hand would put 
the whole drawing into focus. Oh, if he would only 
hurry ! Perhaps he saw her, for he suddenly hastened 
his footsteps, but the next moment his eyes glanced at 
the clock. 

“ I had no idea it was so late,” he said. Good-morn- 
ing, young ladies.” The next instant he had left the 
school. 


IN THE GEE AT STUDIO. 


13 


Catalina bent forward as if nothing had happened. 
Not for the world would she allow the students near 
her to guess at her disappointment: her thick, dark 
hair falling about her shoulders half concealed her 
cheeks ; her little thin face was bent so low over her 
work that no one observed the tears which trembled for 
a moment on her black eyelashes ; her brows were knit 
in a frown. Well, whether the Professor came or not, 
she would master her difficulty. There was a great 
smudge of charcoal on her cheek. There was no longer 
anything to hope for ; she must puzzle out that wayward 
foot alone. Come what would, those toes must be cor- 
rectly represented on her paper. The right focus must 
be obtained ; she would work out her difficulty, she 
would overcome it. The clock overhead had not yet 
struck one. Before the hour sounded, she was deter- 
mined to catch that boar-hound, and transfix him for 
ever in a lifelike attitude on her paper. 

‘‘ All the same, it was cruel of him not to come,” she 
reflected. “ I did hope so much that he would have 
looked at my drawing. Well, it will be far grander if I 
can get things right alone ; but oh, dear, dear, I just can’t ; 
now it looks worse than ever.” She glanced with the 
criticism of silent despair at the hopeless front foot. 
“ Oh, if even Mr. Fortescue would help me,” she cried 
in her heart. 

Mr. Fortescue was the youngest of the assistant 
masters. He must almost have heard Catalina’s un- 
spoken thought, for just at that moment his voice 
sounded above her head. 

“ You are doing your work very nicely. Miss Giflbrd,” 
he said. 


14 


CA TALINA. 


Catalina glanced back at him with an almost frowning 
face. 

“ No, I am not,” she replied bluntly ; “ don’t you see 
for yourself that the front paw is hopelessly wrong ?” 

“Turn it this way, and it will be all right,” said the 
master. He rubbed out Catalina’s bungling work, and 
put in two or three strokes himself “ Now, don’t you 
see ?” he said. 

“ Oh, thank you ; but how stupid of me not to have 
done it alone,” she said. 

Mr. Fortescue moved on without another word. 
Catalina’s boar-hound now looked lifelike, but she had 
not conquered the main difficulty herself, and the Pro- 
fessor had not been near her. In her opinion, the morn- 
ing was more or less a failure. 

The clock over her head struck one sonorous stroke. 
Instantly the silence of the great studio was broken ; 
all the girls began to congregate together, to chatter, 
and to laugh. The masters disappeared as if by magic, 
the doors between the two studios were thrown wide 
open, and several of the girl students joined the boy 
students in the room beyond; they then went off in 
couples to lunch in the great central hall, where refresh- 
ments were provided for all the Art students at a fixed 
rate. 

“ Catty, are you coming into the hall to lunch ?” said 
a merry-faced Irish girl, going up to the little Art student, 
and bending over her. 

“ Not to-day,” answered Catty ; “ I have brought 
sandwiches with me.” 

“ Did I not tell you long ago, you silly girl, that there 
is no nourishment in sandwiches ?” said Bridget O’Brien, 


IN THE GEE AT STUDIO, 


15 

accompanying her words by a laugh. Didn’t I ask 
you to come and lunch with me in the hall? I am 
going to have soup — ^you can get splendid soup for six- 
pence a plate, and hot as it is, I have a craving for it. 
Do come, Catty, just for once — never mind those sand- 
wiches — you don’t know how white and worried you 
look.” 

“ I won’t come to-day, thank you, Bridget,” replied 
Catalina. She stood up as she spoke, and rubbing her 
hand across her flushed face, made the smudge of char- 
coal all the broader. 

“ Oh, child, look at yourself in the glass when you 
go into the dressing-room — I cannot help laughing when 
I see you.” 

“ What is the matter ? What have I done to myself?” 

“ Look in the glass, and you’ll know ; but whisper, 
just before I leave you — has anything put you out?” 

Bridget came close ; she was full of fun and frivolity, 
but good-natured to her heart’s core. 

He never came near me, Bride,” replied Catalina. 
“ And oh, it meant so much, particularly this morning. 
Don’t tell any one — I must bear it, I suppose. It is 
fate.” 

“ He’ll come another time, you little silly. Well, I 
wish I could drag you off to the hall — I’d make you eat 
something, and then you’d be a lot better. I cannot 
stay another minute now, dear.” 

She ran off, and Catalina put her easel slowly away ; 
she then stood for a moment looking round the room. 
In an instant her eyes lighted upon the boar-hound, and 
a smile of satisfaction filled them. She went up to the 
great creature, and patted it on its big head ; then she 


i6 


CATALINA. 


glanced round. No one was observing her. She bent 
low until her curling, beautiful dark hair swept across 
the boar-hound’s neck. 

“ Roy,” she said in a whisper, ” I am angry with you. 
You might have told me — I, who love you so well — you 
might have told me the secret of how to manage that 
right foot.” 

The dog fixed her with a loving and intelligent eye ; 
she clasped her arms round his neck, and kissed him on 
his big forehead ; then she hurried off into a neighbour- 
ing dressing-room to fetch her lunch. She had brought 
sandwiches made with stale bread and slices of corned 
beef; she also had an orange. Oranges were getting 
sadly dry and woolly now. Several other girls remained 
in the studio to lunch, but most of them had provided 
themselves with baskets of strawberries, and bottles of 
lemonade. The day was certainly intensely hot. 

Catalina, who had seen the smudge on her cheek 
while in the dressing-room, had washed it away. She 
now looked tidy and respectable; there was a certain 
foreign grace about her which every one remarked ; her 
eyes were deep and black, full at times of a passionate 
longing; her mouth was beautifully formed, and piquant 
in expression. Her coal-black hair, full of natural curl, 
grew so low round her pretty forehead, that it would 
have been impossible to give England credit for its rich 
abundance. 

“ My grandmother was Spanish,” said Catalina once 
when her friends had questioned her. “ I am called 
after grandmother — her name was Catalina — but I am 
English,” she continued, her eyes flashing — “ I am all 
English ; I don’t wish to belong to any other nation.” 


IN THE GREAT STUDIO. 


17 


Then she had stamped her foot, and frowned, and her 
face had flushed full of vivid colour. Her companions 
found out that it was very easy indeed to make Catalina 
angry. They did not like to tell her it was her Spanish 
blood. But they also discovered about the same time 
that her anger was like a thunder-shower — if very vivid, 
also very brief, then out flashed sunshine, which made 
her charming and beloved. 

“ Come and sit close to me. Catty,” said a pretty, blue- 
eyed girl of the name of Lucy Gray. “ Oh, that dry old 
orange; you shan’t eat it. Take some of my straw- 
berries ; I have brought this great basket full.” 

Catalina was so absurdly proud that she would much 
rather have eaten her dry orange, but Lucy’s manner 
was irresistible, and Margaret Ashton, a tall, handsome 
girl who stood near, had once lectured Catty on her 
pride. Remembering this lecture now, she sat down on 
a low stool, and picked strawberries deliberately out of 
Lucy Gray’s basket. 

“ We are talking about the composition for next 
month,” said Lucy. “Are you going to do one, 
Catty ?” 

“ Certainly,” replied Catalina. 

“What a tone you say that * certainly’ in! But is it 
not a queer subject? I have not the least idea how it 
is to be managed. ' A Vision of the Night ;’ what can 
Mr. Forde mean? Now, such a subject would be all 
very well for landscape-painters, but for us ” 

“ Oh, I have an idea,” said Catalina, lowering her long 
eyelashes, and taking another strawberry out of Lucy’s 
basket. 

“You? I daresay you have. You are the soul of 
b 2* 


i8 


CATALINA. 


poetry, and all that sort of thing,” said Margaret Ashton ; 
“ but the fact is, I have never troubled myself with visions 
of any kind, and how I am to put what I know nothing 
about on paper, puzzles me.” 

Then perhaps you won’t try,” said Catalina, a little 
timidly. 

“ I don’t think I shall, cherie, so that gives your com- 
position all the more chance of being approved of.” 

I am certainly going to do my best,” repeated Cata- 
lina ; “ a great deal depends on it.” 

“What? Do say, little mystery,” interrupted Lucy 
Gray, with a laugh. 

Catalina paused again before she replied. 

“ I think you must know,” she said then, speaking 
with a sort of deliberation which always marked her 
words, and added to her decidedly foreign style, “ you 
must surely remember that the girls who are allowed to try 
for the scholarship must be commended in the subjects 
for composition two or three times during the session.” 

“But, good gracious, child,” said Margaret Ashton, 
“you do not mean to say you are going in for the 
scholarship ?” 

“Yes, I am ; if I am commended for this composition, 
I shall try for the scholarship next session. I shall be 
allowed to, and I shall certainly do it.” 

“What a firm way you speak,” said Lucy Gray. 
“Well, I admire you; but don’t you think you are 
very audacious ? Why, you are not in colour yet.” 

“ I study colour at home,” said Catalina. “ I am not 
afraid,” she added. “ If I am commended now, I shall 
be allowed to try, and I will try. I can but fail.” 

“ I admire you,” said Lucy again. 


IN THE GEE AT STUDIO. 


19 


Margaret bent forward to look at the painting on her 
easel ; she could see it quite well from where she sat. 
She was taking a good, bold, straightforward side-view 
of the race-horse. Her outline was absolutely faultless, 
the horse was in perfect proportion, every limb was in 
drawing ; but Catalina knew, although she could put it 
into no words, that Margaret was not making a picture 
— she was simply copying a horse. It might be a good 
likeness of the race-horse, although — no, it was not even 
that — it was too lifeless. There was no go, no sense of 
movement; the whole thing was wooden. 

“ Maggie is painting that horse beautifully, is she 
not ?” said Lucy Gray, following the direction of Cata- 
lina’s eyes. 

Catalina did not say anything. 

“ Come, Catalina,” said Margaret, a little pique in her 
voice, “ tell me what you really think of my picture ?” 

Catalina raised her eyes in alarm, then she regained 
her courage. 

“ I am no judge,” she said. 

Yes, you are, monkey, a splendid judge. Jump up 
now, and give us your honest opinion. Can you see a 
single line out of drawing ?” 

“ No, not one ; the outline is perfect,” said Catalina, 
honesty and relief in her tone. 

“ Come, you have a great deal more to say ; I am not 
going to let you off so easily. It doesn’t matter in the 
least what a monkey like you says or thinks, but I will 
have your honest opinion. What is wrong with the 
race-horse ?” 

“ As a copy of the horse, it is as right as possible,” 
said Catalina. 


20 


CA TALINA. 


“ Then, oh, you know. Catty ; you disapprove of it.” 

‘‘Well, I wouldn’t have painted him like that,” said 
Catalina at last. 

” You ? And how would you have managed ?” 

“ In the first place, I would not have taken him in 
profile ; that view is” — Catalina’s face flamed all over — 
“ is easy, and therefore commonplace.” 

“ Commonplace,” cried Lucy Gray, with a laugh. 
“ Hark to the little professor. What next. Catty, 
youngest pupil in the school ?” 

“ It is unfair to ask me,” said Catalina, her easily 
ignited temper taking sudden fire ; “ but as you do ask, 
I will just say, I would have made him look as if he 
meant to fly, as if he felt the spirit of the race that 
was before him. I would have just distended his nos- 
trils the merest trifle, and I would put some fire in his 
eyes, and oh — there, it’s all nonsense. Only, if you 
will have it, when I look at him I see a dream horse, 
and he is flying over one of the American prairies, or 
over one of the Russian steppes, and— you hear the rush 
of the wind as he goes by ; but please don’t encourage 
me to talk any more nonsense. Lucy, I am so much 
obliged for those strawberries.” 

“You are welcome, little professor,” said Lucy. — 
“ Now, Margaret, I hope you feel nicely snubbed.” 

“ I honestly respect and admire little Professor Gif- 
ford,” said Margaret. She stretched out her hand to 
Catalina, who grasped it. Tears suddenly filled the big 
dark eyes. 

“ You are not angry with me, Maggie ?” she said. 

“ No, child, I only envy you. You have got what I 
have not You will doubtless be able to make some- 


IN THE GEE AT STUDIO. 


21 


thing of ^ A Vision of the Night but I must repeat 
again, what a subject for a composition !” 

Are you going to do one, Margaret ?” said Lucy. 

“ Not I ; the time is much too near the holidays. As 
soon as ever the school breaks up I am off to Corn- 
wall. Uncle Rolf has taken a house there, and he 
has hired a yacht for the season. We shall be on 
the water all day. I doubt if I shall give many thoughts 
to the Randall School while I am in Cornwall.” 

“ I wish I had the luck to be going to the country for 
three months,” said Lucy. 

“ Are you not going away this summer, Lucy ?” 

“ I suppose so, for the usual fortnight in August. We 
shall go to Margate most likely. Oh, I shall enjoy it 
when it comes. I love dear old vulgar Margate. We 
always go in for the whole thing when we are there, 
and don’t we enjoy ourselves, and aren’t we vulgar of the 
vulgar ? But August is a long way off, for the school 
breaks up, as you know, on the 27th of this month.” 

“ Which happens to be the hottest June I can remem- 
ber,” said Margaret Ashton. — Well, Catalina, what are 
you going to do in the holidays ?” 

“Stay at home,” said Catalina, “and study for the 
scholarship.” 

“ You quite look as if y( 3 u will enjoy it.” 

“ I shall enjoy the time while I am studying,” answered 
Catalina, stoutly. 

She rose as she spoke, and shook some crumbs of 
bread from her blue overall ; she then ran off to wash 
her hands, preparatory to resuming her work. 

The two other girls left behind gazed after her re- 
treating form. 


22 


CA TALINA. 


“ What a little spitfire !” said Lucy Gray. 

“ Yes, but I honestly admire her,’' said Margaret. I 
believe there is something in her. How hards she grinds 
at her work, and how satisfied she is to take all that 
tiresome, unceasing pains which Professor Forde insists 
upon new students going in for ! ‘ Genius is the infinite 

capacity of taking pains’ must surely be the motto of 
his life. Few of our girls stand the test, but she is doing 
it, plucky little thing. I ajn sorry Mr. P'orde did not 
speak to her to-day ; a nod or even a look from him 
would have made her happy for a week. She is always 
put on to Mr. Fortescue, who is quite the least intelligent 
master in the school.” 

“ Well, you see, she knows very little as yet,” said 
Lucy Gray. 

I doubt that she knows so little,” replied Margaret ; 
she has the right stuff in her at any rate.” 

By the way, Maggie,” said Lucy, “ she gave it to you 
pretty hot, did she not ?” 

Margaret knitted her black brows. 

“Any one else would have praised my horse,” she 
said, after a pause ; “ even Mr. Forde said it was well 
done. I am not angry with her, I admire her much, but 
of course I don’t understand her.” 

“ She was hard on your efforts,” said Lucy. She 
looked at the horse, a new criticism in her eyes, and 
said again, “And it is well done, it is excellent.” Under 
her breath, however, she added, “ It would do admirably 
for a sign-board.” 


THE PROFESSORS S TEA. 


23 


CHAPTER II. 

THE professor’s TEA. 

Five o’clock came all too soon, and then the great 
school broke up, and the students began to pour out 
from every door in groups of tens and twenties. Most 
of them went quickly to the boarding-houses which 
surrounded the school, but Catalina and several other 
girls started off to walk down a long, dull-looking street 
which led in the direction of Bloomsbury. Catalina 
carried a net bag over her arm. This contained a roll 
of paper, a box of charcoal, and some other implements 
necessary for her art. She walked somewhat slowly 
now ; the great heat of the day made her a trifle languid. 
By-and-by she reached her home, one of the dullest of 
the dull houses, which seemed to shut away all the light 
and freshness of the exquisite summer afternoon. She 
ran up the grimy steps of the ugly house, and rang the 
loose and rickety bell at one side of the door. The 
moment she did so, a frowzy head was poked up from 
the area below. 

“ Is that you. Miss Catty ? I thought it was. Do you 
mind coming down the back way, please, miss ? Jane 
has left in a tantrum, and there’s no one but me to do 
anything.” 

“ Jane gone,” cried Catalina. “ Of course I’ll come in 
the back way, Alice.” 

She ran down the area steps, and entered the house by 
the kitchen entrance. 


24 


CA TALINA. 


The cook, a girl of five or six-and-twenty, looking 
very hot and untidy, put up her hands to straighten her 
cap as Catalina entered the house. 

“ Do stop a minute, miss,” she said. ‘‘ I’d like to tell 
you about Jane.” 

“ I can’t really wait, Alice ; I am late as it is. Is 
father in ?” 

“ Yes, miss, the Professor came in a good while back.” 

“ I’ll come down and you can tell me about Jane 
presently. Has father had his tea ?” 

“ No, miss, not yet ; there’s no tea gone upstairs yet.” 

“ But is not mother at home ? Aren’t the girls in ?” 

“ They are all out, every one of ’em, miss, except the 
Professor.” 

‘‘ Well, I must go to him at once ; don’t keep me.” 

Catalina ran up the kitchen stairs, and entered the 
long, narrow hall, which was covered by dingy and 
much-worn matting. The house was wonderfully quiet. 
At this time of day, as a rule, it was full of noise, com- 
motion, the clatter of feet, the clacking of tongues, the 
sound of spoons, cups and saucers, knives and forks ; in 
short, the universal sound of the universal family at its 
universal meal. This afternoon the big ugly house 
seemed empty. 

“ It is all quiet and delightful,” muttered Catty under 
her breath, “ only of course father wants his tea.” 

She ran upstairs, rattling her net bag as she did so. 
She reached a broad landing on the first floor, and 
knocked at a door which was sadly in want of paint. 
A voice said “ Come in she opened the door and 
entered. 

A tall, thin man, with gray hair and a high forehead. 


THE PROFESSORS S TEA. 


25 


was seated at the farther end of the room ; he was bend- 
ing over a large table, spectacles on brow, and several 
dictionaries and sheets of paper by his side. 

When Catty came in, he was moving a thin hand 
mechanically in the direction of a large Latin lexicon. 

Is that you, Catalina ?” he said. He did not glance 
at her, but opening the lexicon began to hunt up a 
word. 

“ Yes, father,” she said. She ran up to him, flopped 
down her bag on the floor, flung her arms round his 
neck, and hugged him two or three times. 

“ I was wanting that kiss,” she said. I am better 
now.” 

Mr. Gifford was professor of Sanskrit, Hebrew, Arabic, 
and Persian at the Burlington Museum. He was a very 
learned man, and like many others of his species lived 
in the clouds. He rubbed his hand across his forehead 
now when Catalina gave him her fierce, brief embrace — 
then a misty look came into his large, thoughtful, gray 
eyes, and he stroked the little girl’s hand with his thin 
fingers. 

“ Don’t interrupt me, my love,” he said ; “ this is my 
last lecture of the session on Hebrew literature — I have 
brought down my pupils to the beginning of the fifth 
century. I am due at my lecture at six o’clock, and 
have some final and very important notes to make. 
What is the hour, Catalina ?” 

“ Half-past five,” said Catalina, eagerly. “ Can’t you 
see for yourself, father ?” She glanced at the clock on 
the mantelpiece as she spoke. It was a little Bee clock 
which she and her brother Teddy had purchased between 
them to give to Professor Gifford on his last birthday. 

3 


26 


CATALINA. 


The little clock never went very well — it had a painful 
habit of catching somewhere in its inner mechanism ; it 
then required to be shaken violently, altered in its posi- 
tion, patted on its sides or back, and put gently into a 
new attitude. For a wonder, to-day it was going, and 
its hands pointed to half-past five. 

“ Only half an hour,” murmured Mr. Gifford ; “ I 
shall never get done. You had better not interrupt me, 
Catty.” 

“ No, I won’t,” said Catalina. “ Only just answer me 
one question — have you had your tea ?” 

“ Tea ? I — I don’t remember. — Ah, thank you, my 
child, that is the book I want. Pray, don’t speak, my 
dear. I really must get these final notes into order.” 

Catalina gave her father a Hebrew dictionary — she 
then quickly and with noiseless footsteps left the room. 

” Whatever happens,” she said to herself, “ father must 
have his tea before he goes out to that lecture. I know 
what those Hebrew lectures take out of him ; they are 
worse even than the Sanskrit or the Persian. He seems 
to throw his whole heart into them — to live in the sub- 
ject, and they exhaust him, oh, dreadfully ; he does look 
white and dead when they are over. I am thankful this 
is the last of the course. I know he takes scarcely any 
lunch at the museum ; mother ought to see about it, but 
somehow she won’t. Dear old daddy, he would live 
without eating if he could. He is for ever up in the 
clouds. By the way, it is very nice living up there — 
they are a favourite resting-place for me also — but never 
mind, I am wide awake enough when I think of him.” 

Catalina flew down to the kitchen, looking quite brisk 
and lively. 


THE PROFESSORS S TEA, 


27 


“ Is the kettle boiling, Alice ?” she said. 

Kettle boilin’, Miss Catty ? No, ’tain’t wanted to be 
boilin’ at this moment.” 

” How stupid and tiresome of you, Alice!” said Cata- 
lina, her black eyes flashing. “ Father hasn’t had any 
tea yet, and he must go out immediately. Here, turn 
on the gas ; I’ll boil the water on the gas-stove. Only 
put a very little into the kettle, please. Oh, dear, dear, 
what a good thing I have come in 1 Please, Alice, poach 
an egg as quickly as ever you can, and bring the bread 
and butter into the kitchen ; I’ll cut some. He’ll be off 
in less than a quarter of an hour, and he simply must 
swallow his tea, and take two poached eggs — he must, 
and shall. Oh, won’t you help me, Alice ?” 

The girl, good-natured enough at heart, stared at 
Catalina for a minute, and then flew off to attend to her 
behests. The kettle boiled ; the tea was made, hot and 
fragrant ; Catalina flew from kitchen to pantry, from 
pantry back again to kitchen. A tray was brought, it 
was covered with a white cloth ; a cup and saucer, tea- 
pot, bread and butter, and a little dish of poached eggs 
were all placed upon it, and Catalina prepared to leave 
the kitchen. 

“ You mightn’t be in such a hurry, miss ; I’ve a deal 
to tell you.” 

“ I’ll come down afterwards ; don’t keep me now, 
Alice.” 

“ I’ll take that tray up for you, miss.” 

“ No, I can do it myself” 

The tray was decidedly heavy, and Catalina staggered 
as she walked. She mounted the kitchen flight of stairs, 
paused for breath on the ground-floor landing, and then 


28 


CATALIM. 


went up to the first landing where her father’s study was. 
She opened the door without knocking, and proceeded 
steadily up the room, bearing her little tray of fragrant 
and nicely-prepared refreshments. 

The Professor’s head, seen in the distance, looked de- 
cidedly bald; the few remaining hairs he possessed were 
stuck up in wild disorder somewhere at the back of his 
head ; his spectacles were situated in the middle of his 
forehead; he had forgotten all about them, and was 
frantically searching for a word in the Hebrew dictionary 
with his short-sighted eyes. Without uttering a word, 
Catalina put down her tray, slipped the spectacles back 
into their proper position over the Professor’s eyes, and 
then poured out a cup of tea. 

“ What is it, little woman ? what are you fussing about?” 
he said. 

I am not fussing at all ; do go on and find your word. 
You have plenty of time; you need not start for five 
minutes. Now I am going to hold a cup of tea to your 
lips, and you are going to drink it.” 

How insistent you are, child ! Well, don’t make it 
too hot, and put in plenty of sugar.” 

“ How many lumps ?” 

“ I don’t know ; any number. I cannot quite get at 
the meaning of this point. I must make it clear; the 
whole argument hangs on it. — Ah, that tea is good, my 
child ; I was really very thirsty.” 

Mr. Gifford drank off the fragrant cup, which Catalina 
put in the most enticing way just under his nose. 

“ Fill up another, my dear girl. I declare my brain 
is clearer already. Sometimes I think, Catalina — Cata- 
lina, sometimes I think Well, never mind at present, 



Without uttering a word, Catalina put down her tray 








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THE PROFESSOR'S TEA. 2g 

my love ; I am not quite as young as I used to be, that’s 
all.” 

No one is as young as they used to be, who doesn’t 
eat,” said Catalina, with a flagrant disregard to grammar. 
“ Now your eggs ! we can’t aflbrd to throw away nice 
poached eggs, so you must eat them up. Here, take 
your knife and fork. What word do you want?” 

“You cannot find it, puss.” 

“Yes, I can. You didn’t try to teach me Hebrew 
for nothing, when I had that cold last winter. What 
is the word ? I’ll get it. Give me the dictionary, 
quick. Now, we’ll make a bet about it. I’ll find the 
word before you have finished your poached eggs. What 
is it ?” 

The Professor named the required word which was to 
give him the clue to the difficult point. Catalina hunted 
assiduously ; her pale cheeks felt hot ; her face was never 
capable of acquiring much bloom, but there was a tender 
pink like the centre of the heart of the faintest blush rose 
on each cheek now ; her great eyes grew soft as well as 
bright. 

“ Eureka !” she cried, “ I have it. Are the eggs fin- 
ished ?” 

“ Not quite. Give me that dictionary; I really shall 
be late.” 

“ No, you won’t; and a bargain is a bargain. You are 
not to get the word until you have finished your eggs, or 
you lose your bet.” 

“You are a perfect little tyrant.’^ 

“ I don’t care what I am. I know what is good for 
you, you dear old, forgetful baby of a father.” 

The Professor’s eyes twinkled. 

S'" 


30 


CATALINA. 


“ How dare you speak to me in that disrespectful way, 
you monkey !” 

“ A bargain is a bargain/' said Catty, with a gay laugh. 

Are the eggs finished ?" 

Yes, every mouthful.” 

Well, here is the word. Now, are not young eyes 
good for something ?” 

“ To be sure, child ; that is capital. Let me make a 
note. What is the hour ?” 

“ Ten minutes to six.” 

“ I must be off ; I shall be late as it is.” 

“You generally are late, you know,” said Catty, 
meekly. 

“ How dare you insult me. Catty !” 

“You are to have another cup of tea, and you are to 
gulp down that bread and butter.” 

“ I shall choke ; I am full to repletion. Was there 
ever such a tyrant of a daughter ?” 

“ I can be a very fierce tyrant, as you will see to your 
cost. Now, obey me, sir, at once. Ah, that’s good.” 
Catalina began to jump about in her excitement. Her 
father put on a resigned and martyr-like air. He drank 
off his tea; the little teapot was emptied, and the last 
slice of bread and butter on the plate finished. 

“ Now you are a dear, good old man,” said Catalina. 

“ A dear, good old man,” he repeated ; “ I was a baby 
a minute ago.” 

“You are both,” she laughed. “ If I did not look 
after you, you would be in your second childhood in no 
time. Now there’s a darling, precious daddy ; give me 
one kiss to make me happy, and off you go, you and 
your musty Hebrew.” 


THE PROFESSORS S FAMILY, 


31 


The Professor kissed her ; he was really in a hurry, 
but he kissed her slowly. Then he put his trembling 
hand on her forehead. 

“ God bless thee, little witch,” he said. The next 
moment he had left the room. 

By the time he reached the landing he had forgotten 
all about Catalina, all about his family, the tea he had 
eaten, and everything in the world except the Hebrew 
lecture which he was about to deliver. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE professor’s FAMILY. 

Catalina’s lunch had been a slight one, and she felt 
decidedly hungry herself. When her father had banged 
the hall-door behind him, and she had listened for a 
moment in the queerly silent house, she thought she 
would run down to Alice, find out the meaning of this 
extraordinary change in the domestic arrangements, and 
beg for a cup of tea on her own account. But the 
thought had scarcely entered her mind before she heard 
the fumbling of a latch-key in the front door, and the 
next moment a stout, middle-aged, florid-faced lady 
entered, accompanied by two tall, slim-looking girls, not 
the least like Catalina in appearance, and a dark-eyed 
little boy. This party entered the establishment with 
considerable noise ; the stout lady sat down immediately 
on a chair in the hall, and catching sight of Catalina 


32 


CATALINA. 


half-way up the stairs, called to her in a loud voice to 
come down. 

“ Come here at once, Catty. Thank goodness you are 
in. Well, have you heard the mess we are in ? What 
do you think Jane has done ? Left quite suddenly in a 
tantrum this morning, and you know the Maxwells and 
the Butlers are coming to-night. We cannot possibly 
put them off, and there is nothing for it but for us all to 
put our shoulders to the wheel.” 

“But who is to wait?” asked Catalina; “who is to 
bring the tea up, and the supper ?” 

“Alice must; there, children, you need not stare at 
me as you are doing ; I know what I am talking about. 
Alice must be simply coaxed into a good-humour. Cata- 
lina, my dear, your sisters and I have just been round to 
three registry offices to try and get in a servant at a 
moment’s notice ; but of course there is no such article 
to be found. Oh, I am dead tired ; it is awful to have to 
rush about when you are stout like I am, and in this hot 
weather and all. — Agnes, don’t stand staring in that silly 
way. — Rose, what is the matter ? — Here, Teddy, my child, 
take these parcels at once from your poor mother. Run 
up with them to my room, and leave them on the bed, 
dearie. I declare, children, you none of you seem to 
think that I am ever to feel tired, and I am sure I have 
been pegging away all day as hard as any one. — Catalina, 
you are in one of your dreams ; wake up this minute, 
miss. You are exactly like the Professor; you will grow 
up just such another.” 

“ But she is not a bit like father, mother,” said Rose. 
“ She is as dark as a gypsy, and father has quite a nice 
complexion.” 


THE PROFESSOR'S FAMILY. 


33 


“ Oh, I mean in mind,” said Mrs, Gifford ; ” I think 
nothing at all of outward appearance. That child’s 
mind and the Professor’s mind are as like as two peas in 
a pod. Now, Catalina, for goodness’ sake, wake up, and 
exert yourself. I do wish I had never given in to that 
fad of the Professor’s to have you called after his mother. 
That ridiculous foreign name has been your undoing ; it 
just encourages you to grow into the queer creature 
you are becoming. Here, take my bonnet and mantle, 
run upstairs with them, and then bustle about, all three 
of you. I wish with all my heart we could put off the 
Maxwells and the Butlers ; but there ! the invitation is 
a week old, and I suppose it would look queer. Thank 
heaven, Tve got my breath again. It is awful to be 
stout : you slim young things don’t know the meaning 
of it. Rose dear, you are the most diplomatic of us all ; 
go down to the kitchen at once and soothe Alice’s pride, 
flatter her up, do anything in the world to put her into 
a good-humour. Oh, where’s that cardboard box, with 
Peter Robinson printed on it? Yes, take this to her; 
there’s a new cap and apron inside. Tell her I have 
bought them as a little present, and that they are in 
quite the newest style. Rose, you see that she puts 
them on properly, and oh, for goodness’ sake, look your- 
self and ascertain that the cups are clean and have no 
smudges on them anywhere. There, children, I am 
much better now ; I’ll go away and dress, and then help 
to get the drawing-room to rights. We may have a 
pleasant evening after all.” 

“ I do wish, mother,” said Catalina, speaking for the 
first time, ” that you would put off the Maxwells and the 
Butlers. It would be so easy to write a couple of notes. 


34 


CATALINA. 


If you wish it, I’ll write them for you and take them 

round. I could say that ” 

Now what could you say, Miss Pert ?” said the 
mother. “ Go on. Catty ; you have a delightful, headlong 
way of getting out of difficulties. I should just like to 
hear what you would say.” 

Oh, mother, don’t laugh at me, please; I would just 
tell them the truth.” 

“ Oh,” laughed Rose. 

“ I never heard anything better than that,” said Agnes. 
“ Please, mother, don’t waste any more time over Catty ; 
we know what she is by this time.” 

Yes, we know what she is,” said Mrs. Gifford, rising 
to her feet. “ A nice crow Mrs. Maxwell would have 
over me, and Mrs. Butler, too, for that matter. Catalina, 
you are just as unpractical as the Professor.” 

Mrs. Gifford brushed past her little daughter, and 
began to walk up the stairs. She was very stout, and 
the stairs creaked a good bit as she passed over them. 
She passed the Professor’s study and turned into her own 
bedroom, where she shut the door behind her. 

“ I am sure I am quite willing to help,” said Catalina, 
looking at her two sisters. “You always shut me up 
so dreadfully. I cannot imagine why you are making 
this fuss. Surely there is no disgrace to us in a stupid, 
silly servant going away at a minute’s notice. Why 
should we half kill ourselves, and why, when father 
comes in, is there to be no nice hot supper for him ? 
Oh, I hate the whole thing,” continued Catalina, her 
eyes flashing ; “ I detest humbug. If we cannot afford 
to have people properly to the house, why do we have 
them at all ?” 


THE PROFESSORS S FAMILY. 


35 


Well, they are coming now, so you can reserve your 
lecture until after they have gone,” said Agnes, in a cool, 
sarcastic voice. “ In the meantime, please try and make 
yourself of some use. — Teddy, you had better go to 
father’s study, and learn your lessons.” 

Edward, a little dark-eyed boy of ten years of age, 
went slowly and mournfully up the stairs. He at least, 
in his heart of hearts, applauded Catalina’s words. He 
was very sorry indeed that the Maxwells and Butlers 
were coming to have tea and light conversation presently 
in the drawing-room. He knew what it meant to him. 
Even if Jane had not gone away, it would have meant 
bread and milk at the best to go to bed upon, and now 
he even doubted if the bread and milk would be forth- 
coming. 

“ And what do they come for ?” he thought. “ I am 
sure they are not a bit nice; they never ask me to go 
and play with their boys ; they never do the kind of 
thing that would help a fellow. I believe they don’t care 
a scrap for Agnes and for Rose. Oh, dear, Catalina is 
the only one of the family who has got any sense. Why 
do they laugh at her ? I love her the best of them all.” 

He entered the study, which was very close and stuffy. 
It did not occur to him to open the windows ; he was 
very hungry, poor little chap, after his long day at 
school, and he really wanted his tea. Seeing there was 
no chance of such a meal being forthcoming, he opened 
his lesson books sorrowfully, and began in a stupid, 
half-hearted sort of way to apply himself to his Latin 
exercise, which he was to prepare for next morning’s 
school. 

Catalina and her two sisters were meanwhile in a sort 


36 


CATALINA. 


of whirl. Alice had to be petted and propitiated, the 
drawing-room had to be hastily dusted — for Jane had 
left quite early in the day, long before she had performed 
her usual duties — cups had to be washed, trays polished, 
silver rubbed up; in short, there were a hundred and 
one things to do, and each one was cross and each one 
was hungry. 

Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” however, and 
long before eight o’clock the Giffords had contrived to 
make the house look something in its usual condition ; 
the drawing-room, a large room facing the study on the 
first landing, had been got into some sort of order, the 
chairs had been pulled about into picturesque positions, 
a few fresh flowers had been hastily stuffed into two or 
three vases, the windows had been opened about an inch 
from the top so that a little current of air could filter 
through the ugly room, a table with cups and saucers 
and the appliances for a modern tea were placed in order 
at one end of the room. Rose and Agnes had hastily 
cut sandwiches, and these, with claret cup, were to be 
brought in later by the now obedient and almost excited 
Alice. In short, the grand difficulty had been got over, 
and the eagerly-looked-for guests would never know 
that the parlour-maid had left in a huff that morning. 

“ Half-past seven and everything done,” said Rose, 
clapping her hands gleefully. “ Now we’ll just have nice 
time to go upstairs and dress. You have been a very 
good girl. Catty, and you can come down to the drawing- 
room for a little if you like ” 

“ I would much rather not,” answered Catty, stoutly. 
“ I don’t care a bit for the Maxwells and the Butlers.” 

Much you know about them,” said Agnes, flouncing 


THE PROFESSOR’S FAMILY. 37 

past her sister. “ You don’t deserve ever to see our 
friends.” 

“ Never mind her,” said Rose; “she is just a silly child, 
and never will be anything better if she insists on spend- 
ing her life at that stupid Art school. But all the same, 

Agnes ” Here Rose ran up to her sister, and began 

to whisper in her ear. 

“Yes, I know,” said Agnes. She paused and looked 
at Catalina. 

“ I am sorry, Catalina, if it is disagreeable to you,” 
she said, “ but I am afraid we must have you in the 
drawing-room to-night. If mother or Agnes or I look 
at you, you’ll know that you have to go out of the room 
and poke up Alice. You must keep your eyes wide 
awake, and notice if we even give you a glance ; in 
short, you’ll be wanted for several things. You need 
not talk, of course; you can just sit with your book 
in one of the windows, and then if you are very good 
you can have one sandwich and claret cup by-and-by.” 

“ You had better not offer me any,” said Catalina, “ for 
I am just now in such a state of simple starve, that if I 
begin to eat, I shall gobble up the whole dish. By the 
way, we have none of us prepared anything for father’s 
supper. What is he to have ?” 

“ Oh, there are sure to be plenty of sandwiches left, 
and he can have bovril if there is nothing else. Don’t 
bother us about that just now.” 

“ And poor little Ted ! he has not even had his tea 
yet. What is he to have ?” 

“ I declare. Catty, you are enough to drive one wild ; 
we have not had any tea either, but we don’t make such a 
fuss. There, if he must be attended to, take him down 

4 


38 


CATALINA. 


to the kitchen and cut him a slice of bread and butter 
yourself.” 

“ I just will,” said Catalina. 

She ran out of the drawing-room, opened her father’s 
study door, and ran up to Edward. 

“ Come along, Ted,” she said ; if you’re half as 
hungry as I am, you’ll be glad of a hunch of bread and 
butter in the kitchen.” 

“ Glad !” said the child, gleefully ; “ I’ll be more than 
glad. Catty, I’ve such a great big hole inside of me, 
that I don’t think I really could learn my lessons if I 
didn’t have something to fill it up.” 

“ Well, and I have a yawning gulf,” said Catalina, 
laughing. “ If you and I do not fill up these cavities of 
nature before we do any more work, why, we don’t belong 
to the Professor.” 

“ It is awfully jolly belonging to the Professor, isn’t it?” 
said Edward, with one of his shy smiles. He was a very 
gentle little fellow, and was in consequence much put 
upon by his spirited sisters, and his somewhat overbear- 
ing mother. Catty alone understood him, and he loved 
her with all his small heart. 

“ There is not a minute to waste,” she said now. “ I 
had meant to work up one of Mrs. Browning’s poems, 
there is so little time to get my composition ready ; and 
I know one of the poems will help me. Heigh-ho ! I 
mustn’t talk of that just now; come, Ted, what a good 
thing we have a kitchen to go to, isn’t it?” 

They ran downstairs, satisfied the gnawing pangs of 
hunger, and then Edward slowly, and with a much 
more tranquil expression on his face, returned to his 
lessons. 


THE PROFESSORS S FAMILY. 


39 


“ Catty,” he said, as he paused for a moment at the 
study door, “ you won’t forget that I shall be very hun- 
gry again at nine o’clock.” 

” There is not much fear of my forgetting,” said Cata- 
lina ; “ I have the Professor on my mind.” 

” I’m very glad ; perhaps you’ll remember me, too.” 

” Rather ; but I may have to take whatever I can 
smuggle away up to your bedside Don’t wait up, Ted ; 
are you likely to be awake, though ?” 

” I may be asleep, but do wake me, for I have such 
horrid dreams when I go to sleep hungry.” 

“Very well, I won’t forget.” 

Catalina noisily slammed the study door, and ran off 
to the bedroom which she shared with Rose. Rose had 
already gone downstairs, so she had the tiny room to 
herself ; she changed her tumbled cotton frock for her 
Sunday best, and then ran down herself, prepared to take 
her part in the coming fray. 

Agnes and Rose were both in the drawing-room ; they 
were singularly pretty girls, possessing their father’s 
regular features and the brilliant colouring, which had 
now degenerated into floridness, of their mother. Agnes 
was nineteen, and Rose seventeen ; Agnes had the 
most character, and Rose the most good-nature. Cata- 
lina did not resemble any of the rest of the family, 
and Mrs. Gifford was fond of reminding her of this fact. 

“ No one would suppose you had anything to do with 
us,” she used to say. Where did you get that swarthy 
complexion ?” 

Now Catalina’s complexion was a clear olive, which 
would doubtless be lovely by-and-by. She used to feel 
ashamed of her little face when her mother spoke in 


40 


CATALINA. 


these taunting tones ; but once the Professor happened 
to overhear, and then he had said something so decidedly, 
with such a flash in his eyes, and such a glance of open- 
eyed admiration at Catalina, that she had learned the 
truth. The truth from her father’s lips had made her 
not vain but thoughtful. She felt as if a great weight of 
responsibility had been put upon her. 

“ Some day, child,” said the Professor, “ some day, 
perhaps not far distant, you will find that you have been 
given the wonderful, miraculous gift of great beauty. 
Your grandmother was a famous beauty, and you take 
after her. With beauty and genius, what may you not 
make of your life?” 

When Catalina entered the drawing-room now, she 
took her seat behind the shelter of one of the drab cur- 
tains. The room was not, in any sense of the word, 
aesthetic. It was years and years since it had been re- 
decorated, the paper on the walls was faded, the paint 
was downright dirty, the carpet was dingy, and the drab 
curtains — well, they were drab of the ugliest tone, and 
quite hopeless. 

Catalina worshipped beauty of all sorts. She was the 
sort of child to live always more or less in a dream world. 
In some of her dreams she was fond of seeing the Pro- 
fessor’s drawing-room as she would have liked it to be ; 
she half screwed up her dark eyes now, sat back in her 
corner, and began her imaginings. 

“Velvet curtains,” she murmured, under her breath, 
“ very rich and heavy ; deep tones of yellow and choco- 
late in them ; a carpet of” — she gazed at the shabby, 

threadbare carpet — “ flowers ” She started almost 

to her feet; a loud peal sounded through the house. 


THE PROFESSOR'S FAMILY. 


41 


Catty was rudely shaken out of her day-dream. Enter 
Rose in a hurry, with a bunch of blush roses in her belt. 
Agnes ran to meet her from where she was standing on 
the hearthrug. Mrs. Gifford, with her face still deeply 
flushed, but looking imposing in a red silk which had 
done service for best for as long as Catty could remem- 
ber, came in, panting as she did so. 

“ Catty, did you hear the bell ?” said Rose. Child, 
do let me poke that collar straight ; now you are better. 
I do trust Alice is letting them in properly. I wish, 
Catty, we could have turned you into the parlour-maid 
for the nonce.” 

“ I’d have done it with all the pleasure in the world,” 
answered Catty; I’d have thought it rare fun.” 

Rose looked at her critically. 

It is too late to think of it now,” she said ; I hear 
them coming up.” 

The next moment the drawing-room door was thrown 
wide open, and two showily-dressed girls, accompanied 
by a simpering youth of twenty, entered the room ; they 
were the Maxwells, commonplace, wealthy people. Rose, 
Agnes, and Mrs. Gifford thought it well to make a great 
fuss over them, however ; they greeted them effusively, 
offered them the most comfortable seats in the room, 
and Rose, going to a distant corner, began to pour out 
tea. 

Albert Maxwell strolled across the room to assist Rose, 
in reality to flirt with her. Rose, blushing vividly and 
looking pretty, called to Catalina. 

Come and help,” she said. Catty emerged out of her 
hiding-place. She and Albert between them carried 
round the tea ; there was bread and butter in tiny rolls, 

4 * 


42 


CA TALINA. 


also a plate with infinitesimal morsels of cake. The 
eldest Miss Maxwell was talking to Mrs. Gifford in a loud 
voice. 

“ It is all arranged, and you must come,” she said ; 
“ we have quite made up our minds that you and the 
girls are to be some of the party ; we’ll hire a steam- 

launch and go down as far as ” Here she lowered 

her voice. “ You really must not refuse, Mrs. Gifford ; I 
know some one who will never forgive us if you do” — 
here she glanced meaningly at her brother Albert, “ Your 

share of the entertainment will only be ” She dropped 

her voice again. 

“ What is it ?” said Rose, coming forward ; “ any fun ? 
Oh, Kathleen,” she continued, laying her hand on her 
friend’s plump shoulder, “ are you really talking about 
the water party for Saturday ?” 

“Yes, we have it all arranged,” said Kathleen Max- 
well. “ Mother thinks the steam-launch will be best ; 
we can go up the Thames as far as Teddington ; we’ll 
take lunch with us and tea as well. The weather is lovely 
just now, and the days are the longest; the Blunts, and 
of course the Butlers, are coming. We count on you all, 
remember ; you cannot possibly refuse.” 

“ If you won’t come, I shall stay at home,” said Albert 
Maxwell, looking at Rose. 

Catty, in the distance, watched the scene ; she won- 
dered how Rose could allow an insignificant, freckled, 
sandy youth like Albert to talk to her as he did ; why 
had Rose, too, such a beautiful colour on her face ? 
Catalina felt inclined to stamp her foot. 

“We count on you all, remember,” said Kathleen, 
again. 


THE PROFESSORS S FAMILY. 


43 


** You certainly are very kind,” said Mrs. Gifford, in a 
dubious voice. She was thinking of the necessary sub- 
scription ; her purse at the present moment was very 
light. 

“ Of course we’ll come,” said Agnes, who now came 
forward to join in the discussion. 

“ The subscriptions will not be more than £i s. head,” 
said Kathleen, in a voice which seemed to say, “ and no 
one would surely think anything of that.” 

“ We shall be very pleased to accept,” said Mrs. 
Gifford ; she glanced at Rose’s expressive face as she 
spoke. 

“ But, mother, mother, you forgot, you promised ” 

interrupted Catalina. 

“ Now, Catty, please hold your tongue,” said Rose ; 
“ you always are a little spoil-sport, you know.” She 
laughed as she spoke, but there was indignation under 
her words. “ It is settled that we are to go, and now 
w^e can plan everything,” she said. “ Did you say the 
Blunts were going, Kathleen ? Will Charlie Blunt be 
there ?” 

“ Will he not ?” said Kathleen ; I told him about 
Agnes, and ” 

Agnes blushed and began to talk to Albert Maxwell. 
Catalina walked back to her shelter in the window. 

“ It is even more odious than usual,” she thought to 
herself, as she wrapped the drab curtain partly round 
her. “ I wonder if I can think a little bit of my com- 
position here ; I surely need not listen to any more of 
that sort of nonsense. Only to think of father’s supper 
and my evening being spoiled by people of that sort. 
It is very wrong of mother and of the girls to go on 


44 


CATALINA. 


the river. Father has not got the money; £i apiece, 
indeed ! Those rich Maxwells talk of that as nothing, 
but I know better. Why should mother pretend, and 
why should the girls pretend, that we are well off when 
we are not? How I hate this sort of humbug !” 

There came another ring at the bell; Rose started, 
and looked anxiously in Catty’s direction. It came a 
second time, and Mrs. Gifford now also glanced at 
Catty. 

“ There is no help for it ; I must act the parlour-maid,” 
thought the little girl. “ Alice has funked her duties, 
and I must rise to the occasion.” She dashed down- 
stairs and opened the door. 

Mrs. Butler, accompanied by her two handsome 
daughters, stood without. 

“ How do you do. Catty ?” said the mother. 

“ I am very well, indeed,” answered Catty, in her grave 
voice. 

Mrs. Butler’s face seemed, however, to be still full of 
question. 

“ Our parlour-maid left this morning,” continued Cata- 
lina ; “ she left quite suddenly, I suppose in a huff ; I 
was at school at the time, so I don’t know. I do hope 
you were not kept waiting long at the door.” 

“ No, my dear child,” said Mrs. Butler. She looked 
kindly at Catalina ; she thought none the worse of her 
for making her little confession. 

“ I am afraid it has been very inconvenient our coming 
this evening, Catty,” said Hester Butler. 

“ Well, it has, rather,” replied Catty, frankly ; “ but 
mother, and Agnes, and Rose would not dream of 
putting you off. I know I ought not to have told you. 


THE PROFESSOR'S FAMILY. 45 

Everything is quite nicely arranged now, but if you see 
me flying round a bit, you won’t mind, will you ?” 

“ Mind ?” said Hester ; “ for my part, I shall admire 
you for it.” 

Catalina took the new visitors into a small room on 
the ground-floor, where they deposited their wraps. 
She then conveyed them up to the drawing-room. 

The Butlers were really nice people, and soon con- 
trived to give a new tone to the conversation. Tea was 
handed round once again ; the subject of the great 
Saturday picnic was discussed in all its bearings. Cata- 
lina felt lost and out of it ; she was also tired and sleepy. 
She could not help glancing many times at the clock. 
At this hour, as a rule, that is, when she was not wanted 
elsewhere, she used to find herself snugly ensconced in 
the Professor’s study, deeply buried over his books. 
The Professor had heaps of books, both classical and 
modern ; he bought in books of every sort and descrip- 
tion ; he lived for books ; he seemed to breathe them 
into every pore, to assimilate them, and find them the 
staff of life. 

Catalina equally lived and breathed for Art ; the only 
books she specially cared for were romances and books 
of poetry. To-night she had promised herself to read 
Mrs. Browning’s A Vision of Poets ; she thought it would 
help her to give voice and expression to the idea already 
forming within her little mind with regard to this 
month’s composition, ” A Vision of the Night.” It was 
horrid, therefore, to have to sit in the ugly drawing- 
room and listen to the vapid, uninteresting conversation. 
After all, however, why should she listen, why should 
she not forget every one and go back to her dreams ? 


46 


CATALINA. 


Suddenly Hester Butler’s voice sounded very near her 
corner. 

“ Catty,” said Hester, come here ; I want to speak to 
you.” 

Catty jumped up from her low seat, and went forward. 

“ Bring a chair of some sort and sit near me,” said 
Hester. 

Hester was eighteen years of age ; she was tall, fair, 
and dignified-looking ; she was also very pretty. 

“ Do you know,” she said, “ that I am the friend of a 
great friend of yours ?” 

“ Who is that ?” asked Catty. 

” Margaret Ashton.” 

Catty’s dark eyes began to fill with light ; her pale, 
piquant little face woke up. 

” I am very fond of Margaret,” she said ; “ she is 
always kind to me.” 

“ Yes, Margaret is a fine creature,” said Hester; “ but. 
Catty, I am surprised that you are fond of her.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ I mean this : you have a queer way of showing your 
affection. She told me how critical you were over her 
picture to-day.” 

Catty flushed and then laughed. 

“ When you are asked a plain question, you must tell 
the truth or be a coward,” she said, after a pause. 

“ I quite understand,” replied Hester, gazing at her with 
admiration ; “ most people choose the latter alternative. 
Catty; I’m glad that you are one of the brave ones.” 

Catalina was silent. 

“ Margaret said nice things of you,” continued Hes- 
ter ; she hopes some day that she may see a great deal 


THE PROFESSOR'S FAMILY. 


47 


more of you ; she also thinks that you have a very bold, 
intelligent way of depicting Art yourself ; she expects 
that some day, Catty, you may really be a painter.” 

“ I mean to be,” answered Catalina, with fervour. 

“ Do tell me what you do all day at the Randall 
School ?” asked Hester, bending down and looking into 
her face. 

“ I struggle with difficulties at present,” said Catalina. 

“ I believe you, child. And so some day you really 
mean to be a painter — a great painter ?” 

“Yes,” said Catalina. 

“You do speak in a determined voice; have you no 
doubts on the subject ?” 

“ I have not any ; I shall succeed or die.” 

“ You don’t talk in at all a vain way,” said Hester, 
after a pause. “ I suppose you are right; I suppose you 
will succeed, but you know it is not easy to be a great 
painter.” 

“ I know that, but I mean to be it.” 

“ Well, I repeat that I quite admire you. You are not 
the least like your sisters. Rose and Agnes ; I don’t sup- 
pose they have any special ambition?” 

Hester looked lazily up the room as she spoke ; Rose 
and Agnes were laughing and chatting with her younger 
sister, and with the three Maxwells; Mrs. Maxwell, Mrs. 
Butler, and Mrs. Gifford were having a council of three 
in the farthest window. Catty and Hester were really 
quite alone. 

“ You are not the least like the others,” repeated Hes- 
ter. “ I believe I shall take a fancy to you, although I 
do not, as a rule, care for girls as young. But how old 
are you, by the way ?” 


48 


CA TALINA. 


Nearly fifteen.” 

“And I am nearly nineteen. There are four years 
between us ; at our time of life that makes all the differ- 
ence; I mean that I have passed the Rubicon, and you 
are still nothing in the world except a child. Child, I 
honestly like you ; you must come and see me some day. 
Once, when I was young — oh, no, you need not look at 
me in that startled way ; I am no longer young in your 
sense — I thought that perhaps I, too, would be an artist; 
I went to the Randall School for a term. I thought it 
would be great fun, and I went in very hard for the study 
of the antique. My dear, that term bowled me over, 
finished me completely ; I was sick of Art long before 
those weary thirteen weeks had passed ;/Oh, how stuffy 
the studio was ! and, Catalina, some of the students were 
not even clean, and the whole place was so rough ; in 
short, I found all my beautiful Art oozing out of my 
finger-tips. At home, you know, my governess used to 
praise everything I did, and I seemed as if I wanted 
praise, as if I could not get on without it. But at the 
Randall School I never got any praise, however hard I 
tried : I only got blame, blame, and yet more blame ; so 
I funked the whole thing at the end of the first term, 
and once for all gave up the idea of becoming an artist. 
'Catty, my dear, I shall be an art critic instead, I shall 
abuse other people’s efforts and make myself very much 
respected and very much feared ; in fact, thought twice 
as much of as you will ever be, little monkey. Catty, 
when you are a great artist, you will tremble at my crit- 
ical words.” 

“ All right,” said Catty, laughing; she looked towards 
the door as she spoke. 


THE PROFESSORS S FAMILY. 


49 


*‘What is the matter? Do you want to get rid of 
me ?” 

'' No, but I am waiting for father to come home.” 

The Professor ?” said Hester. They say he is one 
of the most learned men in London. How many lan- 
guages does he know, Catalina ?” 

“ Oh, a great many,” replied Catty. Hebrew, and 
Persian, and Sanskrit, and two or three modern ones ; 
but father never had any difficulty in learning a language. 
He knows a great deal besides ; when he opens out 
some of his knowledge, and lets you . look at it, it is 
wonderful.” 

“ Does he do that for you ?” 

Oh, sometimes ; it is delightful when he does.” 

‘‘You love him very much^ do you not?” 

“ Better than any one else in all the world.” 

“ I am told that he is a very fascinating man — that is, 
when he likes.” 

“ When he likes, he is,” answered Catalina. 

“ Not always, child ?” 

“ No, not always ; sometimes he shuts himself up, you 
know, and then, then — then he is something like a man 
in a box — you cannot get at the real Professor, however 
hard you try.” 

“ I wonder,” said Hester, “ if he will come in here to- 
night, and let us get a peep at the real Professor.” 

“ I don’t think he will ; he will be much too tired. 
He was tired when he went out, and not very well. Oh, 
I do think I hear his latch-key in the door ; I must go to 
him. You’ll excuse me, won’t you, Miss Butler ?” 

“ Call me Hester, Catty ; you and I are going to be 
friends, you know.” 
c d 


5 


50 


CA TALINA. 


“ Well, may I run away to father, Hester ?’' 

** Certainly you may.” 

Catalina flew from the room, and Hester Butler went 
up to the other end where the rest of the party were 
chatting gaily together. 

“ How dull you must have found yourself talking to 
that child !” said Rose. 

Dull !” cried Hester. I have got to confess some- 
thing, Rose,” she added. 

“ What is that ?” asked Rose ; she admired Hester 
Butler more than any of her other friends. 

Well, it is this. Rose : I have committed an indiscre- 
tion ; I have fallen over head and ears in love with that 
beautiful little sister of yours.” 

” Beautiful ! Catalina beautiful ?” said Rose, opening 
her eyes wide in astonishment. 

Why, of course she is,” cried Hester. “ Did you 
never notice what remarkable eyes she has, and that 
quantity of dusky hair, and that dear little pure olive- 
tinted face ? Oh, I know she is thin and angular, like all 
other girls of her age ; but wait. Rose, until she is seven- 
teen, or even before ; you will see then that all the rest 
of the world will share my opinion.” 

“ I am very glad,” answered Rose, but she scarcely 
looked it. 


SEVEN CLOCK BREAKFAST. 


51 


CHAPTER IV. 

SEVEN o’clock BREAKFAST. 

When Catalina went to bed she was dead tired. She 
had managed to satisfy her growing appetite, and felt 
quite certain that when she laid her head on her pillow 
she would fall instantly asleep. To her astonishment, 
this was not the case ; the reason was easily accounted 
for — she had taken an anxiety to bed with her. Now 
an anxiety is by no means a comfortable bedfellow, and 
it kept Catalina awake during the early hours of the long 
night. She was intensely, painfully anxious about the 
Professor. She knew well that no one else in the house 
understood him as she did. She was naturally an affec- 
tionate, warm-hearted, amiable child — it was her nature 
to love all those with whom she came into daily contact, 
but her love for her father, growing greater day by day 
and year by year, had now almost assumed the intensity 
of a passion. Yes, she was certain, as she flung herself 
from side to side on her hot, little bed, that no one else 
really understood her father. To others he was just 
the universal bookworm — scholarly, of course, a perfect 
gentleman notwithstanding his shabby, dusty clothes, 
and his unkempt appearance, but scarcely a human being 
in the ordinary sense. 

Catalina, however, having found her way straight to 
his heart, had established herself there in a cosy and 
comfortable nook. As a matter of course, from the 


52 


CA TALINA. 


moment she had reached that place, she began to under- 
stand him as no one else did in all the world. 

He had looked pale and worried when he came in that 
evening, had scarcely taken in the fact that there were 
people in the drawing-room, but had shuffled straight off 
to his study, to sink into his accustomed arm-chair with 
a tired, limp, old impression on his face. Catalina brought 
him in some hot bovril and toast ; she knelt by his side 
as he partook of his simple supper. 

“ The moment you have finished that, you are to go to 
bed,” she said. 

He did not reply to her, but, laying dowii the empty 
cup, stared vacantly into her face for a moment. 

“ Something queer happened to-night. Catty,” he said, 
suddenly. 

What ?” she asked. 

I cannot understand it myself” He passed his hand 
before his dim gray eyes as he spoke. “ Yes, it was very 
queer. Do you know, I forgot some of my lecture. 
You remember how carefully it was all prepared; but I 
either forgot the principal argument, or I could not see 
it. I had the notes before me, but all the words seemed 
to dance up and down. I made a sad hash of it, and a 
man near the door tittered. It was the sound of his 
laugh that woke me up. I came to myself with a start, 
and finished off the whole thing in double-quick time. 
Yes, I am dead beat ; I’ll go straight to bed. I must 
get up very early in the morning, though, for there are 
several papers to be prepared before I go to the museum. 
Good-night, my child.” 

He rose abruptly, walked down the long'study, and 
opening the dpp/^ closed it softly behind him. He forgot 


SEVEN- CLOCK BREAKFAST. - 53 

the little girl he had left behind, he even forgot to give 
her his accustomed kiss. 

Catalina clasped her hands tightly together as she 
watched his retreating form. Her heart began to beat a 
little too quickly for pleasure. What was the matter ? 
Was anything the matter? Had she any cause for 
alarm in the simple fact that the overtired Professor had 
forgotten his lecture? Yes, she thought she had. She 
knew nothing whatever about breakdown in the ordinary 
acceptation of the word — she had no acquaintance with 
illness, medical knowledge was as foreign to her as her 
father’s Sanskrit ; still she thought, gravely and dispas- 
sionately viewing the whole situation, that she had cause 
for uneasiness. If the Professor had forgotten anything 
else, it would not have mattered so much. He was a 
very hazy, dreamy, forgetful sort of person about all 
ordinary matters; but when once he approached his 
beloved Sanskrit, his adored Hebrew, his musty, fusty 
languages of the dead long ago, then he instantly woke 
up, and was, in short, a new man. The Professor was at 
this time one of the most splendid lecturers of these 
ancient tongues in London. So keen and varied was 
his knowledge, so enthusiastic his appreciation of these 
old-world matters, that he had managed to convey some 
of his own enthusiasm into the brains even of the dullest 
scholars. 

Once or twice, on rare and delightful occasions, Cata- 
lina had heard her father lecture, and although she knew 
nothing of the subject, and had no love herself for the 
old, dead-and-gone languages of the past, she could not 
fail to notice the quality of his voice, the rare sweet 
musical tones, the gracious utterances, the perfect elo- 

5 * 


54 


CATALINA. 


quence with which he delivered himself of his large 
ideas. She had felt proud of him at those moments. 
She had thought her lot as the Professor’s little girl 
about the happiest in the whole world. What did he 
mean to-night by saying that he had forgotten ? Surely, 
whatever else he forgot, he could never be puzzled or 
put out in that province which was to him his own 
familiar country. 

The thought of her father kept tired little Catty 
wide awake ; it made her forget her School of Art, her 
own longings and ambitions, her personal hopes and 
fears. 

“ I know what it means ; it can mean nothing else,” 
she thought. “ It is simply overwork and not enough 
food ; the Professor does not eat enough, and when he 
does eat he does not get nourishing enough things. Oh, 
if only mother would see how irnportant it is. Of course, 
mother loves him ; but if she only would see. Yes, I 
know he earns a good big income, but there are so many 
of us, and the girls are extravagant ; they want a lot of 
dresses, and they want to go about ; and father gives 
away all the money he gets the minute he earns it; he 
does not keep half enough for himself. Mother and the 
girls ought not to go to the picnic; I wish I could pre- 
vent them. They ought not to waste the Professor’s 
money. Father ought to have a change, and at once ; 
he shall have it, that is, if I can manage to open mother’s 
eyes. Oh, dear, how I wish I were older or more im- 
portant ! They none of them mind me ; they think me 
only just a mere child.” 

She dropped off to sleep at this juncture. When she 
awoke, the bright summer sunlight was pouring into tJie 


SEVEN CLOCK BREAKFAST. 55 

room ; the clock on the mantel-piece pointed to half-past 
six. With a bound she sprang out of bed. 

“ Time for me to get up,” thought Catalina. “ I am 
determined father shall have a good breakfast before he 
goes to the museum; he has been up already, in all 
probability, a couple of hours. I’ll give him his break- 
fast at once.” 

Catty dressed herself with speed; she had just accom- 
plished the tying of the last string, and the putting in 
order of the last lock of curling dark hair, when Rose 
opened her eyes. 

“ Good gracious, Catalina, what is the hour ?” she 
cried, starting up in bed. 

“ About twenty minutes to seven,” said Catalina. 

“ What are you up for, child ?” 

“ I am going downstairs to get breakfast for father ; 
you remember we are. a servant short.” 

As if I am likely to forget ; but. Catty, father does 
not want his breakfast at this hour.” 

“ He is to have it at seven o’clock,” said Catalina ; 

father is not half as strong as he ought to be, an(| he 
wants a lot of care. I am going to give it to him ; I 
can’t wait now. Rose.” 

She left the room, slamming the door noisily behind 
her. 

How disagreeable Catty grows!” murmured Rose to 
herself ; she sank down again in her snug little bed, and 
was quickly in the land of dreams. 

Meanwhile, Catalina had reached the kitchen, where 
she found Alice looking very cross and disagreeable, and 
not too well pleased to see her. 

“ Oh, lor’ I miss, how you startled me 1” she said. 


56 


CATALINA. 


“ I have come to help you, Alice,” said Catty, in a 
pleasant voice. 

Alice stared at her for a moment, then her brow- 
cleared. 

“ Well, you are a good-natured child,” she cried. She 
was instantly soothed into good-humour. 

“You could not do everything by yourself, of course, 
Alice,” said Catalina. 

“ Well, no, miss, no more I could ; but, Miss Catty, 
you do look tired ; you work too 'ard, miss. Surely it’s 
bad, copying them himages all day long.” 

“ I don’t copy images,” said Catty ; “ I copy dear live 
horses, and sweet noble dogs. Of course I shall have to 
study the figure presently.” 

“ They say some of ’em are idols, and some of ’em 
have no clothes on,” said Alice ; “ I call it ondecent,” 

“ Oh, well, never mind now, Alice ; I want you to help 
me so badly ; I have a great worry on my mind.” 

“There, my dear. I’ll do my best,” said the good- 
natured cook. “ I always did admire pluck, whether it’s 
in girls like myself, or little ladies like you. You never 
will own to being tired. Miss Catty, and you do stick at 
a thing wonderful. Now, why shouldn’t Miss Rose and 
Miss Agnes have got up to help a bit this morning ? 
They do nothing all day except just to amuse their- 
selves, while as to you ” 

“ We are made differently,” answered Catty. “ If they 
had thought of it, they would have done it. I have 
thought of it, so I have done it. Alice, I have an anxiety 
on my mind.” 

“ Well, now, my dear, I wouldn’t have, if I were you. 
“ It’s really bad for growing girls to get anxious.” 


SEVEN O'CLOCK BREAKFAST. 


57 


It is about father.” 

** Eh ? the Professor ? They do say he’s the most 
learned man in the whole of England.” 

They say what is quite right,” said Catalina. Now, 
I don’t think he is very well, though he never will com- 
plain ; and, Alice, I want him to have a most beautiful 
breakfast. I want it to be so nice that he won’t be 
able to help eating it, and then he’ll go off to the 
museum, well fed, whatever happens. Can you help me, 
Alice?” 

“ To be sure,” said Alice. 

I want to give him his breakfast at seven o’clock,” 
continued Catalina, “ and it is only about a quarter of an 
hour to that time now.^. What shall we give him ?” 

“ Well, this is fun,” said Alice. “ We seem to be sort 
o’ thieves in the night, don’t we, miss ? doing on the 
sly what we ought not to. If we give the Professor a 
good breakfast, there will be no eggs for the rest by- 
and-by.” 

“ As if that matters,” said Catalina. 

“ Miss, I know it don’t.” 

“ But is it to be eggs, Alice ?” 

^‘Yes, Miss Catty; there’s nothing so sustaining. 
What do you say to a homlet, miss, made with four 
eggs ? He could eat up the whole, and scarce know he 
was eating it.” 

Could you make it nicely ?” 

“When I’ve a mind, I could,’’ said Alice, looking 
thoughtful. 

Catalina had a dim memory of some horrible-looking 
compounds, which had been called omelets, and which 
had appeared from time to time on the breakfast-table ; 


58 


CA TALINA. 


but there was a gleam now in Alice’s honest blue eyes 
which made Catalina inclined to trust to her. 

“ It is awfully important,” said Catalina. I believe 
you’ll do it beautifully; make it savoury.” 

“ I know ; you need not tell me,” said Alice. 

“ Well, I’ll leave the omelet to you, and I’ll get the 
tray ready, and the cup and saucer. I can make lovely 
coffee. Alice, coffee and omelet and toast will make a 
splendid breakfast.” 

“ He’s very fond o’ sweets,” said Alice. There’s just 
a little of the home-made marmalade left. We can fill 
up a small dish, and he won’t know but what there’s a 
heap at the back o’ it.” 

Catalina laughed with glee. 

Alice bustled about, beat up eggs and prepared a 
clean frying-pan, while Catalina made coffee and toast. 
In short, the combined efforts of the two were crowned 
with complete success, and by the time the little Bee 
clock on the Professor’s study mantel-piece struck seven, 
his little girl had entered the room, carrying a fragrant 
tray in her hands. 

You look better this morning,” said Catalina, kissing 
him. 

“ I’m all right, my dear,” he said, returning her salute. 

Ah ! breakfast — how good that coffee smells ; I am 
really quite hungry.” 

“ You have got to finish every scrap on this tray,” 
said Catalina, “ and I shall stand over you while you 
do it.” 

“ I am really very hungry,” said the Professor. He 
looked eagerly at his cup while Catalina filled it with 
coffee ; she stood over him silent, smiles playing round 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


59 

her lips, while he ate the omelet, and consumed the 
home-made marmalade, and finished all the toast. When 
he had emptied the coffee-pot, she stooped down and 
kissed him. 

“ You have brought me a very refreshing breakfast, 
my dear, and I feel miles better for it,” he said. The 
fact is, sitting so long without anything to eat has of 
late given me a queer craving.” 

“ Hunger, father ; that’s the name for the craving,” 
said Catty, laughing. 

“ Is it ? Is that sensation due to hunger ? I really 
was not aware.” 

“ You ought never to have it — it is very bad for you. 
Well, now I’m going to see that you have a nice break- 
fast every morning at seven.” 


CHAPTER V. 

THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 

At the real proper eight o’clock breakfast, Mrs. Gifford 
looked cross and worried ; the dull parlour appeared no 
better for the absence of Jane ; it had not even been 
dusted ; the meal, too, was carelessly prepared, and con- 
sisted of nothing more appetising than bread and butter, 
some rather sodden toast, and a ham-bone which had 
very little meat upon it. 

Catalina came in with her hair untidy, and her collar 
awry ; she had been up a long time, and it was never 


6o 


CA TALINA. 


her custom to give any thought to her personal ap- 
pearance; she sat down opposite to her mother. Ted 
had long ago snatched his breakfast and gone to school ; 
the two elder girls had not yet put in an appearance. 
Mrs. Gifford and Catty were alone in the breakfast- 
room. 

“ Now, for goodness’ sake, Catty,” said her mother, 
“sit straight, child. You’ll grow up crooked, if you 
hitch one shoulder above the other in that ugly fashion. 
Now, that’s better. What was I about to say? Oh, 
now I remember; I must go to a registry- office the 
moment I’ve swallowed my breakfast, and try to get a 
substitute for that odious Jane. By the way, Catty, did 
I tell you why she left so suddenly ?” 

“No, mother, but I don’t think there is time just 
now.” Catty looked anxiously at the clock as she 
spoke. 

Mrs. Gifford suppressed an impatient sigh. 

“ I certainly am not blessed with sympathetic daugh- 
ters,” she said. “ Provided you can get off in time to 
that blessed Art, you don’t take interest in any one 
single thing that happens in the house.” 

“Yes, yes, I do, mother; you quite mistake me.” 

Mrs. Gifford laughed. 

“ Have the goodness to pass me the toast,” she said. 
“ There ! sodden, unfit to eat. Nothing gives one such 
indigestion as sodden toast ; I’ll have a slice of bread 
and butter. No, don’t you attempt to cut it ; you’ll 
chop off your finger if you do. I wonder what makes 
you so awkward, Catalina. For my part, I will say 
frankly that I detest and hate the genus Art student. 
The whole tribe are alike neglected, untidy, ill-educated. 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


6l 


As a rule, an Art student can scarcely spell, and for 
some reason or other she is always dirty. Why a child 
of mine should think it a fine thing to belong to such 
a lot ” 

“ Oh ! but, mother, you misrepresent things,” said 
Catalina. 

“ There you are ; I misrepresent things, indeed ! Pray, 
miss, don’t attempt to contradict your mother.” 

But father says,” began Catalina. 

Mrs. Gifford pulled her chair closer to the table. 

“You need not go on, Catty,” she said; “your father 
approves of all this Art nonsense — encourages you, in 
fact. I have no doubt he leads you to suppose that 
some day you’ll be a shining light, a sort of female 
President of the Royal Academy. Well, my dear, you 
always seemed to belong more to him than to me, and I 
suppose I must bear the state of things as patiently as 
I can ; anyhow, there’s not the least use in my trying to 
interfere.” 

Catalina’s eyes filled with tears. 

“ I’d give it up if I could,” she said. 

“You’d do what. Catty?” 

“ I'd give it up if I could, but I can’t,” answered the 
child ; “ it is in me, it is part of me, I cannot tear the 
longing out of me. Oh, mother, if you would try to 
understand ” 

“ Well, dear, I don’t mean to vex you. As to under- 
standing, pray don’t ask me. Catty; I’ve given you up 
long ago. You are your father’s child, and you must be 
educated as he wishes. Now eat your breakfast and go. 
I see you are dying to be off.” 

Catalina finished her cup of tea, and then, rising from 
6 


62 


CATALINA. 


her place at the breakfast-table, went up to her mother’s 
side. 

“ I just want to say one word first.” 

Well, child, out with it. I hope to goodness it is no 
sort of worry, for I am just in a condition when I can’t 
stand that ; my poor nerves are all of a shake. I’m not 
nearly as strong as I look. Catty. Some day, when I’m 
not there, you’ll, you’ll ” Mrs. Gifford’s voice quiv- 

ered, and broke. 

Catalina gazed at her for a moment in silence, then she 
flung her arms round her neck. 

“ Kiss me, mummy ; mummy, I love you,” she said, 
almost fiercely. 

“ Dear child, do I doubt it ? How muscular and 
strong you are, my dear Catalina ! you have really made 
my poor face quite uncomfortable.” Mrs. Gifford rubbed 
the cheek which Catalina had saluted. “ Now, love, what 
is it ? What do you want to say ?” 

“ Mother, I hope you won’t be angry, but I don’t 
think father is well — at least I am sure he is worried, 
and ” 

The room-door was suddenly burst open, and Rose, 
looking fresh and lively, appeared on the scene. 

“ Well,” she said, ” what are you and mother hobnob- 
bing about, Catty ?” 

Nothing whatever,” said Mrs. Gifford. “ Catalina 
seems to think that the Professor is not quite well.” 

“ Is there anything special the matter ?” asked Rose. 

“ No, nothing special,” answered Catalina, getting red, 
only he seems more tired than usual ; he works very 
hard, and he often forgets all about himself” 

“ And is that all ?” said Rose. 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


63 


Well, I don’t think it is nothing,” said Catalina. 

“ I mean, we need not worry specially about it to-day,” 
continued Rose. 

Mrs. Gifford rose from her seat. 

“ Certainly not,” she said. “ Catty, you can go to 
school with an easy mind. Your father is in precisely 
the same state he has been in, to my certain knowledge, 
for the last twenty years. He is always pale, he always 
looks more or less fatigued. Did any one pry into his 
face, they might suppose he carried a secret care. As 
to his forgetting, he is about the most forgetful mortal 
the world ever saw ; he would forget food, he would for- 
get time. Oh, don’t say any more about him. Never, 
my dear Rose, and my dear Catty, either of you, as you 
value your peace of mind, marry a bookworm. It is all 
very fine to be the wife of a clever man, but really, at 
close quarters — there, I will say no more.” 

Catalina’s dark eyes blazed. 

“ Father is the dearest and most splendid character in 
the world,” she said ; “ and I know he is not well, not 
as well as usual” — she gulped down a rising sob in her 
throat. 

“ I will say what I mean to say,” she continued ; “ yes, 
yes, I will, mother. You may be angry with me if you 
like; I must speak, just once for all. I think we ought 
to be awfully careful, all of us, not to spend too much 
of father’s money. I think it is a pity that you, mother, 
and you. Rose and Agnes, are going on the river on 
Saturday, because ” 

“ Oh, that is it, is it ?” interrupted Rose, her eyes 
flashing; “you are jealous because we are going to 
have a little bit of fun, and you cannot be in it. Then 


64 


CA TALINA. 


let me tell you, Catty, you are extremely impertinent. 
What business have you, the youngest girl in the house, 
to dare to dictate to mother ? Go away now ; I am sur- 
prised at you.” 

Catalina hastily left the room ; her cheeks were hot, 
her heart was beating quickly. She had tried to inter- 
fere, and had done no good; the money which she 
knew was so scarce was going to be spent. Her father’s 
health was not supposed to be of the slightest con- 
sequence. 

She ran upstairs, put on her shabby brown hat, tugged 
on a pair of cotton gloves much the worse for wear, 
seized her string-bag, and set off at an almost running 
pace for school. 

She felt very hot and worried when she set out, but 
she had not been more than a moment or two in the 
soft summer air before her anxieties and fears seemed to * 
be lifted away from her by a gentle and benevolent 
hand. She was about to enter that other and larger 
world which filled all her happiest thoughts ; her little, 
anxious brow smoothed out; the fretful lines disap- 
peared from her beautifully formed lips ; she pushed 
her hair back from her forehead, and very nearly sang 
as she stepped lightly along. Home was scarcely con- 
genial, and her father’s state of health made her anxious ; 
but after all, above all, beneath all, surrounding her 
everywhere was Art, Art, Art — in that atmosphere she 
really lived and breathed. She began now to busy her 
active little brain over the composition which she meant 
to send in within the next few days. 

One of the special requirements of the Randall School 
was that all the students should try, at least once or 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


65 


twice a year, to do their best in the monthly composi- 
tion. A subject for composition was set each month 
in every department of the school. Some of the most 
ambitious of the students took a great interest in this, 
making a picture either in black and white, or in colour, 
on the subject each month. On the other hand, the idle 
and least imaginative ones were thankful to shirk this 
difficulty, and therefore to them disagreeable task ; but 
twice a year at least the pupils who had brains and the 
pupils who had not brains, alike were obliged to do their 
best in this special line ; this was absolutely necessary in 
order to enable them to keep their places in the school. 

The subjects of the compositions were always an- 
nounced on the first of the month ; the compositions 
were expected to be sent in a fortnight later, and one 
week afterwards an honour list was published, and 
posted up at the door of each department of the school, 
bearing the names of those students who were worthy 
of honourable mention. The names were always pub- 
lished in order of merit, and those students whose names 
appeared oftenest in the honour lists during the session 
were selected to try for the scholarship at the beginning 
of the following session. 

Catalina Gifford had not long been a student of the 
Randall School. She had worked for about a term at 
the study of the antique, but then had been moved to 
that department of the school which was given up to 
animal painting. Since her earliest days she had shown 
a passionate love for Art, and was already doing re- 
markably well. Three times this year she had received 
honourable mention in the honour list. It is true that 
her work was still too crude, too devoid of technical 


66 


CATALINA. 


knowledge, to insure her compositions being as first rate 
as her great play of fancy, her poetical mind, her keen 
sense of colour, would by-and-by enable them to become. 
But the professors had already remarked on her un- 
doubted talent, and were anxious to give her every 
advantage, not only for her own sake, but also for the 
credit of the school. 

Mr. Gifford was extremely anxious that Catalina should 
receive a sound art education. On the other hand, Mrs. 
Gifford grudged every penny that was spent on Catalina’s 
art career; she grumbled when a check had to be 
written for the art classes; she grudged every penny 
which the little girl was obliged to spend on paper, 
charcoal, and the other implements of her art. At the 
beginning of each session, Catty trembled and shook in 
her shoes ; for if her father earnestly wished her to 
become an artist, her mother, alas, held the purse-strings, 
and without money the little girl could not be taught. 
Now, therefore, the thought of the scholarship, the great 
scholarship, which would not only win her fame, which 
would not only give her a certain standing, which even 
her mother could not afford to despise, filled all her 
horizon. If she could win the scholarship, she would 
receive her art education free for three consecutive 
years. At the end of that time she might at least 
hope to earn enough money to pay for her art lessons. 

To win the Forde Scholarship was therefore the daring 
hope of Catalina’s ambitious little soul. She was not 
really vain, but she had a certain confidence with regard 
to the powers which she knew she possessed ; daring as 
it was to try, she did mean at the beginning of the next 
session to send in her name as a candidate for the scholar- 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


67 


ship. To do this, however, it was all-important that this 
month's composition should be done, and done well. 
The subject suited Catalina ; she thought she could make 
something of it. She had visions of going to the Zoo, 
of studying the lions. She thought of a sunset sky, of 
night falling heavily over the land, of the lions seeking 
their prey. Her heart throbbed ; she thought she saw a 
“ Vision of the Night.” 

She arrived now at the school, just before the hour 
for opening, entered with the rest of the students, took 
off her hat, slipped on her overall, and going into the 
large studio, secured a good place for herself just where 
she could once again master the difficulties of the boar- 
hound’s feet. 

A tall, flashy-looking girl of the name of Rhoda Stan- 
ford was also putting her easel into order when Catalina 
made her appearance. Rhoda was between sixteen and 
seventeen years of age ; she had reddish hair, and light 
blue eyes ; her features were straight and somewhat pro- 
nounced, and but for her expression she might have been 
considered in some respects a handsome girl. The ex- 
pression on her face, however, was the reverse of amiable, 
and it needed but a glance to show that she was neither 
a lady by birth nor education. Catty never liked to sit 
near Rhoda; she had an instinctive aversion to her. 
She disliked her manner ; her Cockney twang acted as 
an irritant to Catalina’s own sensitive nerves ; she also 
despised the tall girl’s futile attempts at Art. Rhoda 
was one of the three students whose easels had stood 
between Catalina and Professor Forde on the previous 
day. It needed but a brief glance to show Catalina that 
if Rhoda worked for ten or even twenty years she could 


68 


CA TALINA. 


never, in Catty's sense of the word, produce a picture. 
Her drawing was waggly and feeble ; it wanted power ; 
there was not a single stroke which gave the faintest 
indication of strength or promise. Before Rhoda came 
to the Art school she had been much praised by her 
masters for certain water-colour attempts to transfer 
flowers to paper. She was a vain girl, and, fired by this 
praise, had begged of her parents to allow her to become 
a student at the Randall School. Here she was quickly 
doomed to find her own level. It was, alas, Catalina’s 
province to bring the new Art student to a clear under- 
standing of her true powers. 

One day, shortly after Rhoda had first arrived, the 
little girl, attracted in spite of herself by the atrocious 
drawing and composition on Miss Stanford’s easel, had 
paused for a moment to look at it. 

“ You are laughing at me,” said Rhoda, who would at 
that time have made friends with the pretty, foreign- 
looking child. 

“No, indeed I am not,” replied Catalina, in her grave 
voice. 

“Then what do you think of these flowers? Don’t 
look at this stupid copy of a horse ; I don’t think, after 
all, animals are my forte. But what do you think of 
these poppies ? I have caught the spirit of them here, 
have I not ?” 

Catalina was silent. Rhoda glanced up at her; she 
noticed how firmly her lips were shut. 

“ Don’t you think so ?” she said, again. “ Why don’t 
you speak ?” 

“ Because I don't think you have got the spirit of 
the flowers,” replied Catalina. She turned away as she 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 69 

spoke, and sitting down at her own easel, resumed her 
work. Her little speech had sounded with great dis- 
tinctness, a couple of students near tittered audibly, and 
from that moment Rhoda was Catalina’s enemy. 

The tall girl quickly discovered, with the malicious- 
ness of a commonplace nature, many ways in which to 
annoy the sensitive child. She observed her earnestness, 
her absorbed attention to her work, her valiant efforts to 
overcome her difficulties ; she also saw with jealous eyes 
how one by one Catalina surmounted these difficulties, 
how each day her drawing grew in power, how each 
day she seemed to have more and more mastery over 
her subject. Rhoda noticed these things with an angry 
flush on her cheeks, and she began to look out for 
means of annoying Catalina. 

In an Art school like the Randall, an ill-natured girl 
can do much to inconvenience another. Rhoda managed 
often to sit so as to intercept Catalina’s view of the ani- 
mal. Just when the little girl was busy over an impor- 
tant outline which required perfect steadiness, Rhoda 
would jump up from her easel, knock against Catalina’s 
as if by accident, and manage to spoil her work. She 
would then immediately apologise in a contrite voice, but 
the thing happened so often that Catalina had her suspi- 
cions that it was really done on purpose. 

This morning the two girls found themselves close 
together. 

‘'Well, little prodigy,” called out Rhoda, “are you 
going to make a muddle again of that unfortunate dog’s 
paw ? Oh, yes, I saw you yesterday ; I noticed how full 
of pleading those eyes were when Professor Forde came 
into the room. But he never came to help you, did he. 


70 


CA TALINA. 


little one? You had to put up with poor Mr. Fortes- 
cue. By the way, he drew that right paw, did he not ? 
Of course you’ll get all the praise, but he did the work, 
did he not ?” 

“ Rhoda, why do you talk in that tone ?” said Cata- 
lina ; “ it makes me feel so bad and angry.” 

“ Poor little sensitive darling,” laughed Rhoda. 
“ Well, I’ll try to consider her dear little feelings or 
failings in future.” 

As Rhoda spoke, she moved her easel so as almost to 
touch Catalina’s. 

“ Now / am going to do a good morning’s work,” she 
said, “and I must just beg of you to move a little into 
the background ; you are intercepting all my view.” 

“ But I can’t finish the picture I began yesterday, if I 
move now,” said Catalina. 

“I am very sorry to be disobliging, but just a little. 
Ah, that’s better. What a frown on those dark brows ! 
A frown does not become yow, petite. Is it possible that 
the little professor is cross? Oh, fie ! fie! You know 
what Mr. Johnson said a few days ago, that no girl must 
be selfish, and that on no account must one Art student 
intercept the view of another Art student. Now, my 
dear, I am going to do good work this morning, and it 
so happens that my study is to be Roy; I am quite 
comfortable now, thank you.” 

Catalina’s face had become crimson ; she made a great 
effort to restrain her anger. Rhoda had managed by an 
adroit twist of her easel to put Catalina completely out 
of position ; it would now be impossible for her to con- 
tinue her work of yesterday. 

“ What is the matter, young ladies ? No talking, and 





“ Rhoda, why do you talk in that tone ?” 


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THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 7 1 

no squabbling for better positions, if you please ; all set 
to work now.” 

Mr. Fortescue had come into the room; he had seen 
Catalina’s angry face, and noticed the sneer on Rhoda’s. 

Catalina sank immediately into her seat ; she brushed 
away the tears which began to dim her eyes, rubbed out 
her carefully-made sketch of the day before, and began 
to draw the boar-hound from a new point of view. She 
had a very passionate nature, and just at this moment 
she felt full of hatred towards Rhoda. Rhoda glanced 
over her shoulder at her, and grinned with pleasure. 

The students had now all assembled, and the work of 
the morning proceeded in perfect silence. 

The race-horse of yesterday was supplanted by a heavy 
but splendidly made cart-horse. Mr. Fortescue ap- 
proached the animal’s side, laid his hand for a moment 
on its neck, and then gave a brief lecture with regard to 
its special points. 

Most of the girls prepared fresh canvas or fresh 
paper, and in a short time the whole school was busily 
at work. 

Catalina, already depressed by the different occur- 
rences of the morning, and feeling quite hopeless at 
having to rub out her work of yesterday, was doing far 
less well than usual. 

Suddenly the door of the studio was flung open, and, 
to the astonishment of every one. Professor Forde ap- 
peared. 

It was not, as a rule, his custom to visit the school 
two days in succession. On seeing him therefore, so 
unexpectedly, all the girls, as they expressed it, felt in 
a flutter. 


72 


CA TALINA. 


Catalina’s heart, which had been lying so heavy 
within her, began to beat quickly, the tears were hastily 
dried on her cheeks, a rose bloom came into each of 
her pale cheeks, and immediately her little face became 
one of the most piquant and charming in the entire 
school. 

Professor Forde happened to glance at her as he came 
into the room ; immediately, with two strides, he found 
himself bending over her easel. 

Ha ! what is this ?” he said. “ You have been rub- 
bing out your work ; did you begin this drawing to- 
day?” 

” No,” answered Catalina, “ I began it yesterday.” 

” Why did you rub it out — was it bad ?” 

‘‘ No.” 

” Then you must have a reason.” 

It doesn’t matter,” answered Catalina. 

All the students within reach were eagerly watching 
for her reply. Rhoda felt uncomfortable. The girl 
next to Rhoda, and the girl beyond her again, knew per- 
fectly well why poor Catalina was obliged to begin a fresh 
drawing. 

” Tell me why you rubbed out your drawing,” repeated 
the Professor. 

” It doesn’t matter,” answered Catalina. 

” I must know the reason.” 

” I could not get into exactly the same position to- 
day, but I am all right now; I am beginning a new 
outline.” 

The Professor paused ; he looked at the boar-hound, 
then at the cart-horse, then he glanced at Rhoda, and in 
a twinkling he guessed at Catalina’s difficulty. 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


73 


You won’t make a good drawing of the dog from 
where you are now,” he said ; why don’t you try the 
horse ?” 

“ Oh, I should like to,” said Catalina, her eyes begin- 
ning to dance. 

“ I am sure you will make a good sketch, but not from 
where you are now sitting. You are one of the youngest ; 
come more to the front, Miss Gifford. — Miss Stanford, 
have the goodness to make room — go back farther ; re- 
member you are much taller than Miss Gifford. — Now, 
Miss Gifford, let me place your easel for you : you have 
a good view from here, have you not ?” 

'' Excellent, thank you a thousand times,” said Cata- 
lina, in her impulsive way. 

“ Well, set to work with your outline ; I’ll come back 
in the course of the morning to see how you are 
managing.” 

The Professor left Catalina, and went into the middle 
of the room. 

** Students,” he called out, “ I wish to say a word with 
regard to the scholarship for next season.” 

The other professors and masters immediately stopped 
their tasks of going from easel to easel. The girls sus- 
pended their labours : all eyes were fixed upon Professor 
Forde. 

“ You doubtless all know,” he began, “ that the scholar- 
ship which is to be competed for next session is now 
offered for the first time to the Randall School. I have 
been left a certain sum of money which I mean, year by 
year, to devote to this purpose. By the wish of the 
Founder, the scholarship is to be called after my name. 
I mention this to show that although you are not in- 

'7 


D 


74 


CA TALINA. 


debted to me for the valuable prize itself, yet I naturally 
take a very deep interest in it. The friend to whom you 
are really indebted wishes his name to be hidden ; he 
has, however, instructed me with regard to certain con- 
ditions which I now wish to speak to you about. The 
subject of the scholarship will be posted on the walls of 
this school by this day week ; the awards will be made 
known on the 5th of October. All drawings and paint- 
ings must be in my possession by the third week in 
August. I now come to the main points to be considered 
in the competitions. First, excellence of outline; second, 
the best anatomical rendering of the subject; but above 
and beyond these points, the verdict of myself and my 
friend will be in favour of those drawings which show 
originality of treatment.” 

The Professor paused for a moment, looking round at 
the eager faces. 

“ My friend is an original himself,” he continued, “ and 
on this point he is very firm. Education can do a great 
deal for you all ; but I must here state firmly that without 
originality you can none of you ever hope to win distinc- 
tion. There is not perhaps a poorer creature on the 
earth than the Art student without ambition. I want 
you all, girls of the Randall School, to be ambitious ; not 
wrongfully so. I have nothing to do with the ambition 
which would trample on a fellow-student, which would 
do wrong to gain merit for itself ; but I want you to 
have that sort of noble ambition which will think no 
effort too great, no study too arduous, to reach its goal. 
There is, I am certain, not a single student in this room 
who has not at least a vague hope of becoming known 
to the world later on. It is distinctly right to have that 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 


75 


hope : it may never be realised — doubtless, in most of 
your cases, it never will be realised ; but it is right, it is 
a good and brave thing to have it. I want to encourage 
you all to have it; but once again I must repeat that 
none of you will ever be known outside your own circle, 
however good your technical knowledge may be, unless 
you possess the gift of originality. Now it is quite 
possible that some of you may have this gift without 
knowing it ; it is also possible that some of you may 
have it, and be afraid to exhibit it — originality sometimes 
shows itself in eccentricities, and there are many boys 
and girls who are much afraid of the ridicule which that 
calls forth. I beg of you all now, if you have it, to 
conquer this fear at once ; I beg of each and all of you 
to try and discover if you have within you even a trace 
of the all-important gift of originality. Once again I 
wish to impress upon you that the scholarship will be 
given for the most original rendering of the subject, 
which I hope to set within the next few days.” Here 
the Professor paused ; he looked from one eager, spark- 
ling face to the other, then he took up his hat and left 
the room. 

Immediately afterwards. Professor Johnson arrived, and 
the work of the morning proceeded busily. 

At lunch-time. Professor Forde’s speech and the great 
subject of the scholarship were the sole topics of con- 
versation. 

Catty once again found herself sitting close to Lucy 
Gray, but Lucy was too busy arguing with another girl, 
to take much notice of her little companion. Catalina 
herself was only too glad to be silent; her heart was 
full ; a vague but golden hope sustained her. 


76 


CA TALINA. 


“ Whatever I have not got, I believe I have got origi- 
nality,” she murmured to herself. “ Oh, I know it — I 
feel that I have the gift within me. I am not going to 
be ashamed of it, I am not going to be vain of it ; but I 
will, yes, I will try, with all my heart and main, to win 
this great scholarship.” 

She pressed her hand to her forehead as the thought 
swept through her eager little mind; the future seemed 
dazzling and bright ; nothing at that moment was im- 
possible to her. 

The school presently resumed its work, and Catalina 
went home in the afternoon fagged, weary, ill-nourished, 
but sustained by the brilliant hope of winning the Forde 
prize. 

“ Now to work hard at this month’s composition,” she 
said to herself, “ what a try I will have. It is absolutely 
necessary that I should do my very best on this occa- 
sion, for I must be mentioned once again in the honour 
list to enable me to compete for the Forde Scholarship.” 

She entered the house. 

Mrs. Gifford had secured a servant, and the place 
looked less untidy and less deserted than it had done 
yesterday. As Catalina came in, she met Rose in the 
hall. 

Where is father ?” she asked, eagerly. 

Rose replied with some tartness : 

“ I don’t know, I am sure ; I wish you would not rush 
into the house in that untidy fashion. Catty. Now do 
hurry upstairs and take off your things, and come down 
to tea ; oh, and afterwards I want you to come to my 
room and help me. I am going to put fresh trimmings 
on my hat, and new ruffles on my gray canvas dress.” 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP, 


77 


Is that for to-morrow ?” asked Catalina. 

Yes, of course.” 

Then you are really going ?” 

“ Going ? of course we are going. Didn’t you hear 
the whole thing being arranged yesterday ? Oh, I forgot 
you were the disagreeable little girl who tried to put a 
spoke in our enjoyment this morning. I am much 
obliged to you, Catty.” 

“But, Rose, why do you misunderstand me? You 
know it was on account of father.” 

“I presume, Catty, that mother knows more about 
father than you do ; now, will you help me with my hat, 
or will you not ?” 

“ Of course I will help you ; I’ll rush upstairs now if 
you’ll let me pass. Rose ; I must go to the study to see 
father.” 

“ Very well ; don’t be long. Til be in my room in less 
than half an hour.” 

Catalina dashed upstairs and opened the study door. 
To her surprise it was empty; the beloved figure was 
not at its accustomed desk. 

“ Where can he be ?” she said to herself She felt 
uneasy, she could scarcely tell why. It was no good 
lingering in the study, however ; she ran up to her own 
room, took off her hat, smoothed her hair, washed her 
hands, and flew downstairs. 

She found her mother, sisters, and brother in the 
dining-room, busily engaged over their tea. The tea 
was a nondescript meal, something between tea and 
supper. 

“ Come, Catty,” said Mrs. Gifford, in a good-natured 
voice, “ I daresay you are half dead, child ; the day has 

7 * 


78 


CATALINA. 


been fearfully hot IVe kept a nice fresh egg for you, 
my love, and a piece of fried bacon. Come up into this 
corner near me ; you look quite washed out” 

“ Yes, doesn’t she ?” said Agnes ; “ like a ha’p’orth of 
soap after a week’s washing. Catty, you are all eyes ; 
you won’t be the beauty people prophesy, if you don’t 
take more care of yourself” 

“ You don’t suppose you will influence Catty with 
those kind of remarks,” said Rose ; she thinks of 
nothing but Art Oh, I see Catty in the future ; those 
awful aesthetic dresses and that untidy hair, and you 
know, Agnes, that terrible kind of absent-minded look ; 
oh, dear, dear ! I, at least, am not in love with the Art 
student”. 

“ Well, children, don’t tease her now,” said the 
mother. She was really startled at the look of fatigue 
on Catalina’s small face, and at the black shadows under 
her eyes. 

“ Sit close to me, darling, and have a good meal,” she 
said. 

“ Thank you, mummy, I am verj/ thirsty,” said Cata- 
lina. 

She drank off a cup of tea, and then said, eagerly : 

“ I could not find father in his study.” She turned to 
her mother as she spoke. 

Mrs. Gifford laughed. 

” Do you think I have hidden him anywhere, my 
love ?” she asked. 

“ Oh, mummy, you know what I mean.” 

“ I really don’t. Catty. If there is a person who is 
absolutely his own master, it is the Professor; and if he 
does not choose to be in the study sharp at half-past 


THE FORDE SCHOLARSHIP. 79 

five, I am afraid I can neither make nor mar in the 
matter.” 

“ I wonder if he has had his tea,” said Catty. 

“ I cannot tell you, my dear ; I have not been in my- 
self more than twenty minutes. Oh, I have had such a 
killing day, I really felt fit to drop when I entered this 
house. — Teddy, pass the lobster paste, thank you, love. 
— What was I telling you. Catty ? Oh, yes, I remem- 
ber ; I went to ten registry-offices before I could get the 
new maid, and she is only here as a stop-gap. She has 
got a permanent place which she must enter in about a 
fortnight. I suppose we’re lucky to have her; we could 
not have done another day with only Alice.” 

“ Mother, may I run and speak to Alice?” said Cata- 
lina. 

“ What do you want with her ?” 

“ She would be able to tell me if father has had his 
tea.” 

“ Really, Catty, you are enough to distract any one 
with your fusses and your groans over the Professor. 
What good will it do you to know whether he has had 
a cup of tea or not ? When he really wants it, I suppose 
he’ll ask for it. Now, my dears, I wish to say one thing 
to you all — there is a new servant in the house. By the 
way, her name is Matilda, and we must all try to keep 
some sort of order if we wish to keep her. Oh, yes, I 
know she is going in a fortnight ; but if we want her to 
stay, even for that short time, we must be very consider- 
ate and very obliging about everything. Dear, dear ! 
what a state the world has come to ! Servants now 
think so highly of themselves that one has to look upon 
them as superior beings. Girls, remember you are not 


8o 


CATALINA. 


to ring the bell oftener than you can help, you are never 
to ask Matilda to do a single thing out of her ordinary 
work, you are to fetch and carry for yourselves, and, in 
short, make yourselves generally useful. Matilda did 
condescend to lay the table this evening, and I suppose 
in the course of time she will condescend also to take 
the things away, and perhaps to wash them up and put 
them in order; but listen to me, girls, and you also, 
Teddy — you must all remember what I am saying — she 
must not be bothered. If she is, she will go off as Jane 
did.” 

“ What a pity she has come !” said Catalina. 

“ She is worse than a visitor,” said Teddy. 

Now don’t be silly, either of you,” said the mother ; 
“she is just a present-day servant, and you know what 
those sort of people are.” 

“ Well, at any rate, it is a good thing to have her,” 
said Rose, with a yawn. “ I suppose she’ll do her ordi- 
nary work, and I do so hate having to put my hand to 
anything of the sort. She may manage as she pleases, 
provided she does out our bedrooms in the morning, 
and dusts the house, and attends at table. And, oh, 
mother, do you think to-morrow will be fine ?” 

“ It gives every promise of it, love.” 

“ They said at school there was going to be a thunder- 
storm,” broke from Teddy’s lips. “ A thunder-storm 
generally breaks up the weather,” he continued, looking 
with marked interest at Agnes as he spoke. 

“ Little boys should be seen, and not heard,” was 
Agnes’s sharp retort. “ Mother, I shall wear my gray 
canvas,” she continued, “and my hat with the blush 
roses.” 


FATHER AND CHILD. 


8i 


course you will, and very nice you will look,” 
said Rose. 

Agnes simpered, and the delicate colour bloomed more 
brightly in her pretty cheeks. She glanced at Catalina, 
who had not heard Rose’s compliment; she was de- 
vouring her own tea with rapidity. She was very hungry, 
and knew that this was her only chance of satisfying her 
appetite that night ; but all the time she ate, a dull fear 
rested on her heart in connection with her father. 


CHAPTER VI. 

FATHER AND CHILD. 

Just when tea was over, Mr. Gifford’s latch-key was 
heard in the front door. 

“ There he comes,” said Catalina ; she coloured, uttered 
a sigh of relief, and rushed into the hall. 

“ How late you are, father !” she cried. 

Is it late ?” asked the Professor. “ Why, what is the 
hour?” 

“ Half-past six. Have you had any tea ?” 

“Tea? I really don’t remember; I don’t think I 
have.” 

Mrs. Gifford had followed her daughter into the hall. 

“ You had better come right in here, and have a cup 
now, John,” she said, putting her hand on her husband’s 
arm. “ My dear, of course you have not had any ; I 
doubt if you have touched a morsel of food since 
f 


82 


CATALINA. 


lunch. Come in at once ; there’s some tea still left in 
the pot.” 

“ Had not we better make some fresh tea, mother ?” 
said Catalina. 

“ No ; what is in the tea-pot will do admirably.” 

“Admirably,” repeated the Professor. He followed 
his wife into the close and noisy dining-room. A chair 
was found for him opposite the one in which Catalina 
had seated herself She looked across at him longingly ; 
her impulse was to rush off to the kitchen and bring 
him in fresh toast and a temptingly prepared tea. Tears 
were very near her eyes, but she kept them back. A 
glance showed her that her father was more than tired ; 
there was a weary inertia about him which the little girl 
saw plainly, but which no one else noticed. He drank 
off several cups of tea and ate a small piece of bread 
and butter, but he put aside the potted lobster and the 
eggs which his wife offered to him. 

“ I am not hungry,” he repeated. — “ Yes, another cup 
of tea, my love.” 

As he was drinking this he looked in a bewildered 
way at his wife. 

“ I cannot quite remember, Rose,” he said, “ whether 
this is breakfast or supper.” 

The younger Rose burst into a gay laugh. 

“ You really are too bad, father,” she said. He looked 
at her, raising his brows, then he passed his hand across 
his forehead. 

“ But which is it, really ?” he asked. 

“ Oh, tea, tea,” said Agnes, choking also with laughter. 
“ Really, father, that is quite the most killing thing you 
ever said.” 


FATHER AND CHILD. 83 

“I am glad it amuses you, my dear,” he replied, 
gravely. 

Soon afterward he left his seat, and going to the hearth- 
rug, stood there looking down the room. 

“ Well, Rose,” he said, glancing at his wife, we have 
much to be thankful for, have we not ?” 

“ Of course, dear,” she replied. His remark seemed 
to puzzle her ; she looked up at him. “ Are you well, 
John ?” she asked, suddenly. 

Catalina’s heart gave a leap of thankfulness. If her 
mother noticed that her father was not quite well, some- 
thing might be done for him. It was on the tip of her 
tongue to say something about the doctor being sent 
for, but the Professor’s next words arrested the unformed 
words. 

I am quite well,” he replied ; “ I never felt better in 
the whole course of my life. I can truly say that I have 
not an ache nor a pain in the world — no ; and for that 
matter, I have not a care either. I am blessed with the 
best of wives, and with four very beautiful children. — 
Come here, my children ; kiss me.” 

Rose and Agnes, after a moment’s amazed pause, went 
up to their father. He put his hand on each of their heads. 

“You are the eldest, Agnes, are you not?” he said, 
looking into her pretty face. 

“ Of course, father,” she answered, trying to make her 
tone flippant. 

“ I remember you were my first child,” he said. “ I 
was a very happy man when the Almighty gave you to 
me, my dear ; I am a happy man to-night.” He kissed 
her very tenderly on her forehead, then he kissed Rose, 
then Catalina, then little Edward. 


84 


CA TALINA. 


The Benjamin,” he said, as he put his hand on the 
little fellow’s dark, curly hair, “ the Benjamin of the 
family, and the only boy, bless thee, little lad.” 

With these last words, the Professor went slowly 
down the room, opened the door and closed it after 
him. 

What can be the matter ?” said Rose, turning a little 
pale. 

Oh, cannot you see for yourself,” said Catalina, the 
tears now really springing to her eyes, “ cannot you 
see for yourselves that father is not a bit well ? He 
would not have gone on in that strange way if he were 
well.” 

“ Now listen to me, Catalina,” said her mother : “ your 
ways and manner and nervous fears are enough to upset 
anybody. Let me tell you once for all that there is 
nothing whatever the matter with your father. Has he 
not said so himself? My dear children, the Professor is 
just a genius, and the ways of geniuses are never to be 
calculated upon. He is the best man in the world, but 
he is a book-worm and a genius, and such folks are not 
to be judged by ordinary standards. My dear children, 
all of you, it is twenty years since I married the Pro- 
fessor ; I presume therefore that I have a right to know 
more about him than any of the rest of you. He is the 
best of men, the kindest, the most unselfish, but he is a 
genius; therefore, the little scene he has just enacted for 
your benefit, my children, is quite in character. I repeat, 
once for all, that there is nothing in what he just said to 
make any of you anxious.” 

But, mother, you asked him yourself if he were well,” 
interrupted Catalina. 



There was an attic which Catalina had all to herself at the 
very top of the house. 



FATHER AND CHILD. 


85 


Mrs. Gifford’s face slightly reddened. 

“ His manner startled me for a moment,” she said, 
‘‘and I just forgot that he was the Professor. When I 
remembered that fact, of course I felt all right. Now 
pray, my dears, don’t moon about in this room any 
longer, or we shall have Matilda in a huff. I daresay 
you two girls,” she glanced at Rose and Agnes as she 
spoke, “ have small odds and ends to do before to- 
morrow’s picnic.” 

“ Yes, mother, that we have,” said Rose. “ Come 
along, Aggie. — Catalina, don’t forget your promise.” 

“ No, I’ll be with you in a minute,” answered Cata- 
lina. 

The elder girls and their mother left the room. Cata- 
lina and Teddy remained behind. 

“ What are you frightened about ?” asked the little boy, 
going up to his sister as he spoke. 

Catalina went on her knees, and put her arms round 
her brother’s neck. 

“ Teddy,” she said, after a pause, “ there’s a weight at 
my heart ; I can’t understand it, Ted, but it is there.” 
She clasped the child tightly to her heart, kissed him so 
frantically that he very nearly cried out, and then ran 
from the room. 

There was an attic which Catalina had all to herself at 
the very top of the house. It contained nothing but old 
boxes and a few treasures of the little girl’s very own ; 
there was an easel in a corner, a very disreputable-look- 
ing lay figure, some brushes, and a palette with a half- 
done drawing upon it. It was in this spot that Catalina 
meant to work away at her composition by-and-by, it 
was in this corner she hoped to try for the great Forde 

8 




86 


CATALINA, 


Scholarship. She flew to her attic now, shut and bolted 
the door, and remained there with her own anxious 
beating heart, her own rebellious thoughts, for a few 
minutes. There came a tap at the door; Rose was 
frantically turning the handle. 

** Come, Catty, remember your promise,” she called 
through the keyhole. 

“ ril come soon, very soon,” answered Catalina. She 
suddenly flung herself on her knees, covered her face, 
murmured some words rapidly, as if she were imploring 
the help of some one very hard indeed ; then she un- 
bolted the door, and ran down to the room which she 
shared with Rose. 

“ Now I am ready to help you,” she said. 

Rose was standing by her bed ; she was unpicking 
some rather dirty flowers from a white hat. 

“ I am glad to see you. Catty,” she said. “ Here, jump 
on the bed ; it is the only vacant seat left. Take this 
hat, will you ? and, oh, yes, this clothes-brush ; I want 
you to unpick the ribbons and brush them out. See, I 
bought these plush roses to-day ; don’t they look sweet ?” 

“ Pretty well,” said Catalina. 

“ Why do you say that ? Don’t you like them ?” 

“ They don’t look very natural.” 

“ Well, I think they do ; anyhow, they were the very 
best I could buy ; you know we are not rich.” 

** I daresay they will look all right when they are in 
the hat,” said Catalina. 

“ Yes, I am sure they will. I wish you would fix them 
up for me, Catty. You know you have got a wonderful 
touch, when you like.” 

Catalina smiled faintly. 


FATHER AND CHILD. 


87 

These sort of roses grow in clusters,” she said, after 
a pause. “ I know the kind very well ; they covered the 
front of the cottage down at Hazlemere when we were 
there last year.” 

“ What does that matter now ? I want them stuck in 
my hat.” 

Yes, but I am trying to think how I shall arrange 
them ; it would be best not to separate them. I’ll put 
them altogether just in one big bunch at this side.” 

“ Yes, that is quite charming,” said Rose, standing over 
her. “ I declare my hat will be much prettier than Agnes’s, 
although Agnes’s is quite new. She bought hers trimmed 
in the shop ; it took every scrap of her money. The 
roses are put in separately, one here and one there ; the 
cluster is much more effective.” 

I won’t put this faded ribbon in any more,” said 
Catalina ; have you got some black lace ?” 

Only my lace scarf.” 

Well, give me that ; I can make you up a beautiful 
hat with these roses and some black lace ; have you a 
box of pins ? Come, that is right.” 

“ But will the black lace look well with the roses ?” 

Of course, j ust under them, so. Now they stand 
out, don’t they ?” 

I declare they do, splendidly.” Rose clapped her 
hands with delight. ” My dear Catty, you are a born 
genius.” 

Catalina became now intensely interested in her work, 
the roses in her cheeks almost matched the roses in the 
hat ; she screwed up her pretty lips, and inclined her 
head sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, to 
survey her handiwork. 


88 


CA TALINA. 


I think that will do,” she said at last. 

“ Do,” said Rose ; why, it’s perfect ; the hat looks 
every bit as well as any hat in Regent Street. Catty, 
you ought to be a milliner.” 

“ I like making things look pretty,” said Catalina. 

“ How queer you are ! I heard you flying out the 
other day because some one had done a pretty draw- 
ing.” 

“ Oh ! but, Rose, that is something quite different.” 

“ Is it ? I’m sure I don’t know ; anyhow, you have 
managed this nicely for me. Now can you ruffle the 
lace round the neck of my dress ?” 

“ Give it to me,” said Catalina ; she began to quilt the 
soft lace up, and then fastened it round the neck of the 
dress with long tacking threads. 

But, child, all that work will come out.” 

“ Well, you must sew it over when I have finished. I 
cannot do needlework; I can just bunch the lace into 
position.” 

“ So you can, and it looks charming. Now what gave 
you that quaint idea, I wonder ; I never saw lace exactly 
arranged like this. I know it will suit me to perfection ; 
why did you think of it, Catty ?” 

“ I didn’t think of it. — I saw it” said Catalina. Don’t 
you remember that picture of Madame Le Brun done by 
herself? cannot you recall the way the neck of the dress 
is arranged, and the way the lace falls ? I have only 
copied that.” 

Is that so ? How clever of you to think of it ! Cer- 
tainly the dress will look just as if out of an old picture ; 
and with that hat ! Oh, I shall have a charming day !” 
Rose began to skip about the room. “ I do hope it 


FATHER AND CHILD. 89 

will be fine,” she added, gazing up at the summer sky 
anxiously. 

“ I am glad you like it all, Rose, Now have I done 
enough for you ?” 

“ I suppose you have, you poor dear child ; has it 
been very troublesome ?” 

“ No, not at all ; but I want to go to father.” 

“ Catty, you really need not be anxious about him. 
You ought to trust to what mother says ; remember she 
has known him for twenty years.” 

Catalina sighed. 

“ At any rate I should like to go to him now,” she 
said. She left the room and flew downstairs. 

She entered the study without knocking. The Pro- 
fessor was seated just as he had been the night before; 
he was bending over his desk just as usual. A pile of 
dictionaries lay near him at his right hand; a lot of 
manuscript paper was scattered about ; he was bending 
forward, his pen in his hand. 

Is that you, Catalina ?” he said, without looking up. 

Yes,” she replied ; “ what are you doing, father?” 

Preparing my Hebrew lecture. There is very little 
time left.” 

“ But, father” — Catalina felt as if a hand had suddenly 
clutched at her heart — “father, don’t you remember?” 
she repeated. 

“ What is the matter, Catty ?” He paused now, and 
looked up at her. “ I had no idea it was so late,” he 
said. “ I am to deliver that lecture to-night at eight 
o’clock.” 

“ But, father, you are quite forgetting about every- 
thing ; you delivered your last lecture last night at six 

8 * 


90 


CATALINA, 


o’clock ; cannot you remember ? The course of Hebrew 
lectures is over.” 

He looked at her steadily for a moment, then his lips 
parted with the faint dawn of a smile. 

“ I believe you are right,” he said ; “ how queer that I 
should have absolutely forgotten !” 

With a great effort Catty began to speak in a cheerful 
tone. 

“ So you need not worry about that work,” she said. 
“ Now do let me put all the papers away.” 

He did not utter another word. She collected the 
sheets of manuscript paper, and put them into a drawer 
out of sight, then she placed the dictionaries back on the 
book-shelves, and finally, drawing a small stool close to 
the Professor, sat down, and rested her arm on his knee. 
He lay back in his chair very quiet, and strangely silent. 
He was at no time a man of many words, but when he 
and Catalina were alone, it was often his habit to talk to 
her as if she were a man; to talk all about the subjects 
which filled his own heart and soul. The sun sent its 
last rays in at the window ; there was a very red sunset, 
and a bank of heavy clouds was coming up slowly in the 
southwest. 

There will be a storm,” said Catalina. “ The clouds 
are coming up against the wind; Teddy is quite 
right.” 

The Professor did not reply. Catalina began to stroke 
his long thin hand; suddenly she bent forward, and 
pressed her lips passionately to his fingers. The Pro- 
fessor very slowly moved his hand ; he laid it on her 
head. 

“ I enjoy sitting still,” he said, after a pause ; I enjoy 


FATHER AND CHILD. 9 1 

having you with me. The evening time is a very peace- 
ful part of the day.” 

“ Yes, father.” 

He leant back again in his chair, then closed his eyes, 
while a sigh, the faintest of sighs, came from his lips. 
Catalina sat perfectly quiet for several minutes, then she 
turned round, and gazed anxiously into her father's face. 
She had never seen it look so gray, so old ; the cheeks 
seemed to have fallen in ; the thin, intellectual lips 
were shut almost in a straight line; the eyes, full of 
a dreamy content, were fixed upon the rays of the setting 
sun. 

“ Oh, father,” said Catalina, suddenly springing to her 
feet, “ I feel at times nearly mad with longing.” 

A frown came between the Professor’s brows ; he looked 
up at her with astonishment. 

“ There is no use in that sort of thing, my little 
girl,” he said ; “ in this world, excessive emotion is 
wasted.” 

“ But all the same, you cannot help feeling it — that is, 
when you are young, young like me,” she said ; she 
panted as she spoke. 

“ You are exactly like my mother, Catalina. She, too, 
was excitable ; a fervid temperament, a great warm heart. 
You take after her. I am glad you are like her, my little 
girl.” 

“ Was she excitable when she was old, father ?” 

“ Yes, to the very end. Now as for me, it would take 
a great deal to rouse me, to rouse me to your sort of 
excitement. Catty.” 

But, father, that is just it; you ought to be roused, 
you want rousing. I wish I were rich ; I wish for all 


92 


CA TALINA. 


sorts of impossible things. I should like you to take me 
away, and I to take you away into a beautiful part of the 
country.” 

“ But I prefer the town, my dear ; there are more 
books in town. I am happier at the Burlington Museum 
than in any other place in the world. What is the 
matter with you to-night, Catty ? Is anything troubling 
you ?” 

“ I am troubled about you. I do not believe you are 
well ; you are not like yourself.” 

“ I assure you, my love, I am quite well ; not even tired.” 

Why did you come home a whole hour later than 
usual ?” 

“ I will tell you. Catty,” he said, after a pause ; “ I forgot 
all about the time. I stayed in my room in the museum 
after the place had been closed ; one of the clerks came 
and reminded me.” 

“ It is so queer of you to forget things,” said Catalina. 
“ That is not the only thing you have forgotten to-day : 
you came home late ; and afterwards you began to pre- 
pare your Hebrew lecture. It is all strange,” she added, 
“ and it frightens me.” 

The Professor rose suddenly to his feet. 

“There is a weight here,” he said, pressing his hand 
to his forehead ; “ something comes between me and — 
and the world.” He looked wildly at Catalina for a 
moment, then he sat down again. 

“ Let me call mother, let me send for the doctor,” said 
the child. 

“ Don’t speak for a moment; it is a cloud, but it will 
pass,” The Professor seemed to struggle with himself, 
then the calm returned to his face. 


THE LA [/EEL CROWN OF FAME. 


93 


“ It was a horrid sensation, but it has gone,” he said. 

There was something inexplicable between you and me, 
between me and the whole world ; but it has gone by : I 
am quite myself once more. Don’t on any account call 
your mother, my love ; I would not have her alarmed : 
there is nothing serious the matter.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 

The storm must have spent itself elsewhere, for the 
next morning arose in great brilliance and glory. Cata- 
lina again got up early, went downstairs to the kitchen, 
braved Alice’s ill-concealed displeasure, and the wonder- 
ing glances of the new maid, Matilda, and brought up 
sharp at seven a temptingly prepared little breakfast to 
her father. 

As usual the Professor was up ; he always rose soon 
after five in the summer, and an hour later in the winter. 
This morning he was seated at his desk, bending forward 
and busily writing in his somewhat cramped, upright 
hand. There was a faint flush on his otherwise deadly 
pale face. In Catalina’s eyes that flush made him look 
much better. Her spirits rose when she saw him; she 
placed the breakfast on a little table by his side, and 
skipped about the room, putting it in order while he ate ; 
she drew up the blinds at both the windows, and opening 
the sashes, let in the sweet, fresh morning air. Mr. Gif- 
ford ate his nicely-prepared breakfast with appetite. 


94 


CA TALINA. 


He smiled now and then as he saw Catalina moving 
about; her bright movements seemed to soothe and 
please him.” 

“ What it is to be young and in good spirits !” he said. 
“ Come here, Catty.” 

She went up to him at once, and dropped on her knees 
by his side. Her earnest, spirituelle^ little face was raised 
to his ; he looked into it intently. 

“ A penny for your thoughts,” he said. 

“Oh, I have so many,” she answered; “just at the 
present moment I dream of the laurel crown of fame, for 
you and for me.” 

“ Dear child,” he answered, “ I shall never have any- 
thing to do with that crown.” 

“ Well, father, I hope / shall wear it ; I wish to tell 
you, father — I don’t mind you knowing my very inner- 
most thoughts — that I have made up my mind to have 
it some day.” 

The Professor smiled. 

“ How excitable you are. Catty !” he said ; “ the crown 
of Fame, the wreath of Bay. Long ago I used to dream 
of such glories ; but now I don’t think they are worth 
the struggle. The wreath of bay withers, little Catalina; 
it does not last. No earthly glory is worth the struggle 
we make for it when we are young.” 

“ So it seems to you,” she replied, “ but not to me ; 
you cannot crush the hope out of me, father. Some day 
I am going to be famous.” 

“You mean to be a great painter, eh, little girl?” he 
asked, tenderly. 

“ Yes.” There was a world of expression in Catalina’s 
“ Yes.” 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 


95 


“ How do you know that you have it in you ?” 

I believe I have.” She said the last words so low 
that they were scarcely heard. There was intense emo- 
tion, but no vanity in her words ; she hung her pretty 
head. With a quick rnovement her father put his arms 
round her neck, then she laid her bright face on his 
shoulder. 

“ God bless you,” he said ; “ you are like none of the 
others ; you are like me when I was young, and yet 
with a difference. If ever you come to my years, Cata- 
lina, you will look at all this from a different point of 
view. Well, never mind ; old eyes cannot see as young 
eyes. My vanishing point is there” — he raised his arm 
and pointed upward with his finger — “yours here; dif- 
ferent standpoints, eh ? So you think fame and glory 
the best of all ?” 

“ What can be better ?” she asked. Her heart was 
beating high. 

“ The crown of bay and the laurel wreath both wither,” 
said the Professor, very slowly, “ but the crowm of good- 
ness, that remains. After all, child, at the end of a long 
life, I may say from the bottom of my heart that the 
only thing really worth living for is goodness. Be good, 
Catalina, conquer yourself; there is nothing else worth 
living for in the long run.” 

The Professor rose as he spoke. 

“ I must be off,” he said ; “ you have kept me too long 
chattering.” 

“ But you don’t go to the museum so early, as a 
rule.” 

“ I must this morning. I have to deliver a Persian 
lecture in the south room, and must make some im- 


96 


CA TALINA. 


portant notes on the spot. Don’t keep me, my dear 
child.” 

Well, at any rate, you won’t forget that it is Satur- 
day, and that you have got to be back in time for high 
tea with me ; you and I will be alone at tea, for mother 
and the girls are going on the Thames, and Teddy has 
an invitation to spend the rest of the day out. Don’t 
forget to be home in time.” 

“ I won’t, my darling.” 

Mr. Gifford seized some papers, rolled them up, thrust 
his glasses into his pocket, and abruptly left the room. 
Catalina stood for a moment where he had left her. 

“ I suppose, in one sense, the crown of goodness is 
the best,” she whispered slowly to herself, “ but — but I 
want the other.” She raised herself on tiptoe to look 
at her own reflection in the overmantel ; she saw a little 
dark face, with some colour in it, eyes sparkling with 
excitement, the freshness of the early morning all over 
the piquant, excitable little face. She put up her hand 
to her head. 

*^Just here I shall wear it,” she whispered — ‘^invisible, 
of course, but yet visible, and it all depends upon whether 
I win the scholarship. Now then to work, to work hard. 
Good-bye, dreams. You are worth nothing unless you 
incite me to work. What a busy time I have before me ! 
I must finish my cart-horse this morning ; then this after- 
noon, if all goes well, I’ll sketch in my rough idea of * A 
Vision of the Night.’ They will all be away at the 
picnic, and father and I can have a real, cosy time. 
After dinner,^ perhaps, he will come with me to the Zoo ; 
oh, we are in for a comfortable afternoon.” 

She flew downstairs. Matilda was rather glad of the 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 97 

help she volunteered, and breakfast was laid punctually 
on the table. The freshness of the day — for a delicious 
breeze was blowing from the southwest — and the pleasant 
anticipation of coming enjoyment, made both Agnes and 
Rose inclined to be specially agreeable. Mrs. Gifford 
had slept well, and was also pleased at the prospect of 
the long, happy day which lay before her. 

“ I hope to goodness the champagne will be worth 
drinking,” she said, as she poured herself out a cup of 
tea. 

Mother, don’t forget to bring our subscriptions,” said 
Rose. 

“ No, my dear. Alas ! the subscription is the thorn in 
the pillow, the crumpled rose-leaf. How much did Mrs. 
Maxwell say it would be ?” 

“Well, not more than £ 13 . head,” answered Rose. 
“Very cheap, I call it. You know we are to have a 
steam-launch; that is much more satisfactory than a 
rowing boat.” 

“ Not so romantic,” said Agnes. “ However, never 
mind ; nothing shall damp the delights of this day.” 

“ I wish Catty Avas coming with us,” said her mother; 
“ that child really grows paler and paler.” 

“ I am in perfect health,” answered Catalina ; “ it is 
natural to me to be pale.” 

“ You know, mother, that Catalina would much rather 
be at school,” said Rose. 

“ Oh, you need not tell us that, my love,” said the 
mother. — Well, see here, Catty, you shall have a nice 
lunch to-day. Give me that bread and butter ; I’ll put 
the rest of this lobster paste on it ; and here’s a basket 
of strawberries for you, Catty.” 

E ^ 9 


98 


CATAZmA. 


“ You are in luck, Catty,” said Agnes, with an envious 
glance at the fresh, cool fruit. 

“ Don’t be greedy, Agnes,” said her mother ; “ the 
child shall have this basket of fruit ; the rest of us are 
going off for a bit of fun, and she is staying at home.” 

” No, she is going to school ; she is going to do what 
she likes best of all.” 

“ Well, she is a good child, and a pattern to us all,” 
said her mother. Now run off, my love, and work to 
your heart’s content. By-the-way, you saw your father, 
did you not ?” 

Yes, I took him his breakfast at seven o’clock.” 

“ Good gracious ! why at that hour ?” laughed Rose. 

“ He is to have it at that hour every morning,” said 
Catalina, in a determined voice. 

“ How did he seem to-day ?” asked the mother. 

“ Pretty well, mother ; he was in a great hurry to get 
off to the museum. He said he had to give a lecture on 
Persian in the course of the morning.” 

“ Now that’s odd,” said Mrs. Gifford ; “ I thought all 
the lectures were over. What does he mean ? Well, I 
shall be quite glad when the term is finished ; the Pro- 
fessor really wants rest.” 

Mrs. Gifford hurried from the breakfast- table to con- 
tinue her preparations for the great event of the day, 
and Catalina went to school. 

She found herself once more seated next Rhoda Stan- 
ford, and once again owned to a sense of irritation at this 
arrangement. Catalina had done remarkably good work 
the day before. Her outline of the cart-horse had been 
admirable, and had called forth the rather warm eulo- 
giums of Professor Forde. He not only praised the 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 


99 


accuracy of her drawing, but had shown Rhoda Stan- 
ford the difference between Catalina’s spirited drawing 
of the horse, and her own lame and weak rendering. 

‘^See,” he had said to her, “Miss Gifford’s horse is 
all alive with movement ; you can almost see him dance. 
Your horse! can’t you see for yourself that it is 
wooden ?” 

Rhoda’s face had flushed, and her hatred of Catalina 
had grown stronger. 

When the little girl entered now, Rhoda did not even 
look up. Catalina resolved to take no notice of her. 
She put her easel quickly into position, and continued 
her delightful work of yesterday ; she had to shade her 
copy of the cart-horse this morning. 

At the Saturday lunch, many girls stayed in the studio, 
and amongst them this morning was Rhoda. She went 
to the cloak-room, and bringing back a neat little case, 
took out some daintily prepared sandwiches ; she then 
filled up a glass of sherry from a silver flask. Sipping 
her sherry daintily, and jingling her heavy gold bangles, 
she looked the essence of pretentious girlhood ; she be- 
longed, in short, to the worst class of her type, possessing 
all the smallnesses of her sex, and few of their redeeming 
qualities. 

Catalina found a nook for herself by Margaret Ashton ; 
she was glad to put as great a distance between herself 
and Rhoda as possible. 

“ Well, Catty,” said Margaret, “ have you begun the 
composition ?” 

“ No, but I mean to to-day,” answered Catty. 

“ You don’t mean to say,” called Rhoda, suddenly, 
across the room, “that a little mite like you has the 


lOO 


CATALINA, 


audacity to try that difficult competition, * A Vision of 
the Night?’ ” 

“Yes,” replied Catalina, nodding; she lowered her 
long eye-lashes as she spoke. 

“ Catalina, I envy you those delicious strawberries,” 
said Margaret Ashton, leaning affectionately towards the 
child ; “ do let me share them.” 

“ Oh, please do, Maggie ; I am so delighted that you 
wish for them,” said Catty, flushing now with pleasure. 

“ Never mind what that tiresome thing says,” con- 
tinued Margaret in a whisper ; “ her opinions are worth 
nothing.” 

“ Please, Margaret, don’t encourage me to hate her.” 

“ To hate her ! What can you mean, silly child ?” 

“ I cannot tell you what I feel ; I must not say it 
now.” 

Rhoda began to talk to another girl who stood near. 
Suddenly the studio door was opened, and Lucy Gray, 
who had gone across to the restaurant for lunch, came 
in. She stood up before the other girls, and said : 

“ What do you think has happened ?” Her tone was 
full of excitement. 

“ No ! What ? Do tell us,” cried several. 

“ Well, there’s no end of a fuss. I heard full partic- 
ulars from Persis Rowton. Some daring busybody has 
been scribbling caricatures on three of the masters’ easels. 
Professor Forde’s, Professor Johnson’s, and Mr. For- 
tescue’s. The caricatures were discovered this morning. 
Persis says they are the most ridiculous things you can 
imagine, heaps of go in them and talent, but really quite 
insulting. Who ever has done them has hit off the 
masters to the very life. She tells me Professor Forde 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 


lOI 


has been done inimitably; I could not help laughing 
even at her description. He was taken in this sort of 

attitude ” Here Lucy held up her right hand, 

slightly elongated her round face, and narrowed her 
eyes. 

“You know that special look, don’t you, girls?” she 
continued — “ the look he gives to an unfortunate stu- 
dent’s production before he means to pounce upon it. 
Well, there he was in his pouncing attitude, and lower 
down on the easel in his lecturing attitude, and in 
another corner in the attitude when he is too disgusted 
even to speak. Persis said it was about the cleverest 
and the cruellest thing she ever saw in her life. Oh, 
mean ! of course it was shockingly mean, and all the 
rest. As to poor Mr. Fortescue, you know the timid 
darling ? Well, he has been represented in such a way, 
and all his dear little foibles so plainly manifested, that I 
should scarcely think he would have the face to show 
himself in the studio again. Professor Johnson was 
also hit to the life, and made slightly fatter than usual. 
Persis says that the professors are consulting over the 
matter, and she is told that on Monday there is going 
to be a regular row. The masters are determined to 
trace the guilty person home. Who can possibly have 
done it ?” 

“ I do wish I could seethe easels,” said Catalina, jump- 
ing to her feet. 

“Why, Catty, how absurdly eager you look,” said 
Margaret. 

“ Of course I am ; I love clever caricatures.” 

“ Can you caricature ?” asked Lucy. 

“ At one time I had quite a fit of it, but father said it 
9 * 


102 


CA TALINA, 


was a dangerous gift, so I only indulge in it now and 
then quite in private.” 

“ It seems scarcely fair to question Miss Gifford at this 
moment,” said Rhoda Stanford, coming forward. Her 
voice took a disagreeable tone, and there was a sly look 
in her light green eyes. “ Miss Gifford may commit 
herself,” she added ; the disgraceful proceeding may 
be brought home to her.” 

Catty looked full at Rhoda when she said this ; her 
clear eyes laughed. She sat calmly down again, and, 
taking up another sandwich, proceeded placidly with her 
lunch. 

I call the whole thing disgraceful,” said Margaret. 

“ It is simply scandalous,” said Lucy. “ Poor Pro- 
fessor Johnson is in the greatest rage of all ; he can 
stand anything except being turned into ridicule. Well, 
the guilty person will get it hot ; they say she is certain 
to be expelled.” 

“ I cannot imagine when the opportunity occurred,” 
said Margaret. 

“ Yes, that is one of the puzzles. We are to be ques- 
tioned closely on Monday. If the guilty person does 
not confess, the whole of the school is to be sent to 
Coventry. Oh, I am certain it is going to be very dis- 
agreeable, and the worst of it is, that any one who could 
do a mean trick of that sort, would not hesitate to con- 
ceal it with a lie. However, the professors mean to be 
very sharp, and will not leave a stone unturned to trace 
the culprit.” 

“ I am going back to my work now, Margaret,” said 
Catty ; ” I want to finish shading the cart-horse before I 
go home.” 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. IO3 

“ Have you begun to shade it so soon ?” 

“ Yes, I finished the outline yesterday.” 

“ Catty got a lot of praise for her outline, don’t you 
remember, Margaret?” said Lucy. 

” Of course I do now — some of Professor Forde’s rare 
words of commendation. The little professor is getting 
on with strides and bounds. I should not wonder. Catty, 
if they put you into colour next term.” 

“ I do hope they will,” replied Catty, with a beaming 
face. She returned to her easel, but the others stood 
together in clusters, talking of the event of the hour. 
The most eager in the discussion was Rhoda Stanford. 

“ Who can the guilty person be ?” she kept on repeat- 
ing. “ Who had the opportunity of doing such a clever 
and daring trick ?” 

The other girls shook their heads ; they could find no 
answer to Rhoda’s questions. 

” Well, for the first time in my entire life, I am posi- 
tively glad I am not clever,” proceeded Rhoda. “ If I 
were, the cruel trick might be brought home to me, for 
you know, all of you, that the professors cannot bear 
me, and half of you girls are rude enough to think badly 
of me.” 

We none of us think so badly of you as that,” said 
a little red-haired girl, who stood near. “ For my part,” 
she added, flushing deeply, “ I don’t believe a girl in 
the whole school would wilfully insult our dear pro- 
fessors.” 

Well, some one has done it, that is an obvious fact,” 
replied Rhoda; then she added, lowering her voice, “We 
all know the girl who has got the ability ; she confessed 
that much herself.” 


104 


CA TALINA. 


“ To whom do you allude ?” asked Margaret, in a firm 
voice. 

Oh, I won’t breathe her name,” said Rhoda. “ Of 
course she has not done it ; she is far too perfect. I 
only allude to the obvious fact that she has got the 
ability.” 

Your remarks are extremely unkind,” said Margaret, 
her eyes flashing. “ If there is a girl to whom such an 
act of deceit would be impossible, it is the one to whom 
you allude.” 

Rhoda tossed her head. 

“ Appearances have deceived before now,” she said. 
She then went back to her own seat. 

The professors returned, and the girls continued their 
work. The clock at the end of the room calmly ticked 
away the last hour of the Art school week. Catty, in 
the absorbing interest of her own work, forgot all about 
the subject which was exciting so much attention in the 
school. Not so Rhoda. Rhoda was restless and ex- 
cited, a little nervous, too, had any one sufficient leisure 
to observe her. Her work had never interested her less 
than this afternoon. She was doing it badly, and each 
stroke but added to her difficulties. Even to herself, 
she could not but own that her copy of the cart- 
horse was ungainly, knock-kneed, wooden, and shaky. 
She glanced once or twice with keen envy at Cata- 
lina. How boldly Catalina’s horse stood out on her 
paper, how alive it was, how telling were each of her 
firm strokes ! Where had she learned to manage her 
charcoal as she did? Why did each line but add to 
the bold effect of her drawing? Yes, Rhoda had to 
acknowledge that Catty’s horse was an excellent copy, 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. I05 

whereas hers was feeble, hopeless. Yes, there was no 
doubt of the truth — Catty had strength, and Rhoda 
feebleness. 

“ How dreadful it all is,” thought the angry girl, how 
hateful ! Why should one girl have so much and another 
so little ?” 

With all the bitterness of a weak nature, Rhoda hated 
Catalina at that moment. 

Another student came up, and stood close to Rhoda's 
easel. 

“ I feel quite nervous about Monday morning,” she 
said. “ The professors are in a fury ; they are deter- 
mined to trace the caricatures home. If the guilty girl 
does not confess, all the students in our school are to be 
put into Coventry.” 

“ I wonder what that will mean,” said Rhoda. 

The girl shrugged her shoulders. 

” Everything disagreeable,” she answered ; “ of course 
the scholarship will be withdrawn.” 

” Nonsense ! That would be too bad.” 

” It will be hard, certainly,” said the girl, “ and I for 
one have been making such efforts, and really have the 
ghost of a sort of hope of success. If only the guilty 
person would confess.” 

” It must be brought home to her whether she con- 
fesses or not,” said Rhoda, with a meaning smile ; she 
bent again over her drawing. 

You are not making much of that,” said her com- 
panion. 

” No, animals are not at all in my line ; I think I shall 
give them up, and take to flowers.” 

Any one can paint flowers.” 


io6 


CA TALINA. 


“ I don’t agree with you. At any rate, whether I am 
ever to paint or not, I am going now.” 

She stood up, yawning as she spoke. At that moment 
she made a sudden lunge forward, and contrived to give 
Catalina’s easel an intentional push. In consequence, 
the little girl made an uncertain stroke just at an im- 
portant part of her work. She looked up at Rhoda with 
flashing, angry eyes. 

“ I do wish you would be careful, Rhoda,” she said. 

“No talking, young ladies,” said Mr. Fortescue’s voice 
in the distance. Rhoda gave a vindictive smile, and the 
next moment had left the studio. She went into the 
dressing-room, which happened to be empty. Catty’s 
little string-bag was hanging on the wall ; it hung limp, 
and was nearly empty, containing nothing except a 
drawing-book and one or two odds and ends of drawing- 
paper. Rhoda looked hastily round her. 

“ I’ll risk it,” she reflected. “ This matter is going to 
be much more troublesome than I had the least idea of 
I would never have got myself into this scrape if I had 
but known : well, there is no other way out of it, and 
it will serve her right, too, for, but for her, it could not 
have been done. I shall have my revenge, and also save 
myself” 

She put her hand into her pocket, and taking out a 
half sheet of paper on which several caricatures of the 
different masters were drawn in pen and ink in a spirited 
manner, slipped it into Catalina’s bag. 

“ There,” she thought, “ if this does not startle her, I 
don’t know what will. I wonder how she will manage 
now, and what she will do ; anyhow, I shall be all 
right.” 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 107 

Rhocla hastily pinned her hat over her frowzy head of 
hair, and left the school. 

The clock was pointing to ten minutes to three, when 
one of the Art students came up to Catalina, and spoke 
to her. 

“You are Catty Gifford, are you not?” she said. 

“Yes,” replied Catty. 

“ Well, there is some one outside who wants to speak 
to you.” 

“ Some one who wants to speak to me ?” repeated 
Catalina, in surprise. 

“Yes, she looks like a servant. She is waiting just 
outside the studio ; she seems in a hurry.” 

Catalina sprang from her seat, and ran hastily out of 
the studio. In the passage outside she came plump up 
against Alice. 

“ Oh, Miss Catty,” said the girl, “ I thought I’d best 
come and fetch you at once. Even a few minutes may 
be of consequence, miss.” 

“ Why, what is the matter, Alice ? Has anything 
gone wrong ?” 

“ I don’t know exactly, miss. It’s the Professor ; he’s 
a bit queer, and I’m rather frightened. I don’t think 
he’s well ; he is walking up and down the dining-room, 
and talking queerly to himself. I heard him come in, 
and I ” 

“ Don’t keep me, please,” said Catalina, interrupting 
her; “I’ll just put on my hat, and fly home.” She 
forgot all about her string-bag, her easel, everything in 
the wide world except the Professor. A moment later, 
she was rushing along Gabriel Street, panting as she ran. 
Oh that there were wings to her feet ! Once she looked 


io8 


CATALINA. 


behind her. Alice away in the distance was also running’, 
and calling to Catty to stop ; but Catalina did not mind ; 
she flew on faster and faster. How she wished that she 
had money in her pocket in order that she might call a 
passing hansom ! The hansom driver put up his hand, 
but she was obliged to shake her head in reply. Her 
eager feet flew quicker and quicker over the dusty street. 
Fear kept tugging at her heart. Her father, her beloved 
father; oh, what could be the matter ! Oh, to reach him 
soon, soon ! There was a pain in her side, her breath 
came hard, hurting her as she drew it. At last she 
reached her own hall-door ; she ran up the steps, and 
pulled the rickety bell. Matilda, the new maid, who 
was evidently waiting for her, opened the door at once. 

“ Alice came to fetch me ; where’s father ?” said Catty, 
with a gasp. 

“ He has gone upstairs, miss ; I think he’s in the 
drawing-room. We don’t quite know what is the matter. 
Oh ! please, miss, don’t be so frightened ; I daresay the 
Professor will be all right when he sees you.” 

“ Let me pass, Matilda,” panted Catty. 

She ran upstairs; flung off her hat, and ran into the 
drawing-room. Her father was pacing up and down at 
the end of the room near the fireplace. He paused for 
a moment in his monotonous walk, when he saw Catty 
standing near the door; then he once again began to 
walk up and down. Suddenly he threw out his right 
arm, and began to gesticulate with much force and 
unction. 

“Yes, gentlemen,” he said, “ I think I have now made 
my meaning thoroughly plain to you ; I hope you have 
taken in my words, and that, that — the grand course of 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 109 

literature which we have had the privilege of going 
through together will — gentlemen, I trust it will remain 
in your memories and influence your actions all, all your 
days. We cannot study the heroic without ... I 
think you understand me ; I am now bringing this 
brilliant course to a close ; we have come to the begin- 
ning of the fifth century, that time of struggle and 
of ” 

“ Father,” said Catalina, rushing up to him. 

“ Don’t interrupt me, my child,” said the Professor. 
He pushed her aside, and paced up and down faster and 
faster. “That time of struggle” ... he began again. 
“ Gentlemen, it has been my privilege to carry you 
through this wonderful history; it has also been my 

delight ” He stared vacantly in front of him, looked 

again at Catalina, and suddenly flung himself on the sofa 
where Mrs. Giflbrd had sat the night before. He covered 
his face with one of his long thin hands, and sat quite 
silent. 

“ In the name of heaven, where am I, Catty ?” he said 
at last, in a bewildered way. 

“ At home, dear father, at home with me, your little 
Catty,” she said. 

She was terribly frightened, but the emergency of the 
moment gave her strength. 

“ I’ll be back with you in one moment,” she whispered ; 
“just sit where you are till I come back.” She rushed 
out of the drawing-room. 

Matilda was waiting on the landing. 

“ Please, Matilda,” said Catty, “go at once to No. 35 ; 
it is at the left-hand corner of the Square. Ask Dr. 
Watson to have the goodness to come here immediately.” 

10 


no 


CA TALINA. 


“ Yes, miss,” said the girl. ** I had best leave the hall- 
door ajar, so that Alice can let herself in. Oh, there is 
Alice coming up the steps.” 

“ Go at once for Dr. Watson,” repeated Catalina. She 
rushed back to her father. He was still seated where 
she had left him ; he was gazing with a queer, puzzled 
expression across the room. When Catty softly laid 
her little hand on his arm, he started ; she nestled up 
close to him, and drew one of his hands into hers. 

The lectures are all finished, Catty,” he said, in a 
voice of indescribable melancholy. “You came in just 
at the close ; you were with me, my child, at the finish. 
The last word of the last lecture has been delivered, and 
the Professor — the Professor can — go home.” 

He trembled violently as he spoke; his eyes looked 
queerer than ever — his face whiter ; then a purple rush 
of blood came up, tinging his ears, dyeing his forehead. 
He tumbled in an unconscious heap on the floor. 

When, a moment later. Dr. Watson came into the 
room, he said that Professor Giflbrd was suffering from 
an attack of apoplexy. 

“Are you the only one in the house?” he said, 
glancing round at Catalina. 

“Yes,” she replied; then she added, “I understand 
father very well.” 

“ There is no question of any one understanding him 
now,” said the doctor. “ He is unconscious, and would 
not recognise anybody; he is very ill. Your mother 
ought to be summoned ; where is she ?” 

“ She has gone on the Thames with some friends to 
spend the day.” 

“ Are your sisters with her ?” 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 


Ill 


Yes ; they will all come back some time to-night.” 

“ Well, you and I must manage now as best we can. 
I daresay, with the aid of the two servants, we may be 
able to get your father into his room. By the way, 
before we move him, did he complain of anything last 
night or this morning ?” 

“ No, but he kept forgetting things. His Hebrew 
lectures were all delivered, but he thought he had to do 
another. I did not think him quite well.” 

The doctor nodded. 

“ This attack has doubtless been coming on for some 
time,” he said ; “ it is a pity I was not sent for before.” 

” Please, Dr. Watson,” asked Catalina, “ will you tell 
me the truth ?” 

“ Certainly, my dear.” 

” Is my father very ill ?” 

” I am sorry to say that he is.” 

“ Is there” — Catalina’s lips trembled — “ is there dan- 
ger?” 

“ I cannot deny it,” said the doctor in a kind tone ; 
“ but at the same time, people have got over attacks of 
this sort ; apoplexy is always a dangerous complaint, and 
of course there is also the paralysis which accompanies 
it. Your father must be properly looked after ; I shall 
send in a nurse.” 

“ No ; please, let me nurse him ; I would much rather.” 

“ Impossible, my dear child. You can, of course, stay 
in the room until your mother returns ; but there must 
be a trained nurse to take charge of a case like this. 
Now, if the servants will come in, we will get the Pro- 
fessor into his room.” 

The two servants entered the room, and the sick 


II2 


CA TALINA. 


man, with some difficulty, was carried into a bedroom 
on the same landing. The doctor saw him laid on the 
bed, and then hurried off to fetch a nurse. Catalina 
found herself for a moment alone with the stricken man. 
The blow which had so suddenly fallen was sharp, and 
had completely stunned her. She did not feel at that 
moment any sense of acute misery ; there was a heavy 
weight at her heart, a weight which almost amounted to 
physical pain, but otherwise she was calm, and could 
think with clearness. 

“He will require the best nursing, the greatest love, 
the uttermost care ; all the strength that I can give him ; 
all, surely all, must save him,” she murmured fiercely to 
herself. 

Then she changed her outdoor boots for some soft 
slippers, and went quietly, more like some little old 
woman than a child, about the sick-room. A sort of 
instinct seemed to tell her exactly what to do ; she 
opened the windows slightly, and drew down the 
blinds; she began to put away the useless and un- 
necessary things. Before the nurse, whom the doctor 
had sent in, arrived, the room began to assume that 
indescribable look which a sick-room always wears. 

The Professor lay stretched out flat in the middle of 
the bed. How thin and worn and old he appeared ! His 
breathing was a little stertorous; there was a faint flush 
on one cheek ; the rest of his face was deadly pale. He 
looked like one dead; only that stertorous breathing 
gave any token of life. 

Alice and Matilda came popping in and out of the 
room. Alice presently approached the bed and looked 
down at the sick man. 


THE LAUREL CROWN OF FAME. 1 1 3 ' 

“ Merciful heaven ! how bad he do look !” she cried. 

Oh, Miss Catty, don’t tell me that the Professor is took 
for death.” 

“ He is in danger,” replied Catty, in her grave voice ; 
“but don’t ask me many questions now, Alice; what we 
have got to do is to nurse him, to prevent his dying. 
Oh, Alice, I am sure you will do all you can to help me.” 

“ That I will, my dear ; oh, how brave and quiet you 
are, miss, and you so wropped up in the Professor ! 
Why, any one can see with half an eye that you are the 
darling of his heart, and he the idol o’ yourn. Pm sure. 
Miss Catty, ef you keep up so splendid, Fm not the one 
to break down ; oh, dear, dear ! I do wish the poor 
gentleman could be undressed.” 

“ I think we won’t do anything till the nurse comes,” 
said Catalina. “ Oh, there’s a ring at the front door.” 

“ Fll fly and open it, miss.” 

A moment afterwards Catalina heard a light, quick 
step running up the stairs, and a girl’s bright face peeped 
into the sick-room. 

“ I am the nurse,” said the girl, speaking to Catalina 
in a cheerful voice. “ Are you Miss Gifford ? Are you 
the only one at home ? The doctor has told me some- 
thing. Oh, you poor little dear, I am so glad I am able 
to come. Now, please, don’t be frightened ; Fll arrange 
everything beautifully. Will you ask your maid just to 
show me to a room where I can take off my bonnet and 
cloak and put on my cap ?” 

Catalina motioned to Alice to take the nurse to her 
sister’s room. She was absent for two or three minutes, 
and then came down in her nurse’s cap and apron, 
looking as if she had lived in the house for days. 
h 10* 


CA TALINA. 


II4 

“ Now/’ she said, cheerfully, I am ready for anything. 
And this is the patient.” 

“What is your name?” asked Catalina, who came 
up and stood in stony silence at the head of her father’s 
bed. 

“Virginia — Sister Virginia; you had better call me 
Sister. Now the very first thing is to get the poor gen- 
tleman’s clothes off; perhaps. Miss Gifford, you will 
help me ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Will you go and fetch some hot water ?” 

Catalina went ; the nurse bustling actively about. 
Catalina came back with the hot water, and then stood 
by, feeling her heart sinking heavier and heavier within 
her each moment; the Sister, however, kept the little 
girl actively employed ; she had to fetch many things, 
to take away others, to help with the sheets on the bed, 
to remove the Professor’s clothes. Soon the sick man 
was lying comfortably in bed, and the nurse herself sat 
down by his side. 

“Now, Miss Gifford,” she said, “you have behaved 
very well ; you’ll be a capital nurse yourself some day. 
But you are looking white and tired : that will never do. 
Go downstairs, please, and take a good meal.” 

“ I cannot eat,” replied Catalina. “ Is it not bad for 
him,” she said suddenly, with passion, “ to hear us talk- 
ing ; will it not injure him ?” 

“ No, dear, it cannot do him the least harm ; he cannot 
hear us. Go down, please. Miss Gifford, and have a good 
meal.” 

“ I cannot eat.” 

Sister Virginia looked very hard at Catty ; she then 


THE LA UP EL CROWN OF FAME. II5 

suddenly rose from her post by the bedside, and went 
out on the landing. 

“ Follow me, please.” 

Catalina did so in some astonishment. 

” If you don’t wish to be very troublesome, to give a 
great deal of unnecessary worry, you will go downstairs 
and take a right good, nourishing meal. I shall want 
something to eat myself within an hour or so. Your 
father may be ill a long time, and if you wish really to 
help him, you must keep up your strength.” 

“Do you mean that?” said Catalina, opening her 
eyes ; “ do you think it possible that I can really help 
to nurse him ?” 

“ Of course you can, if you keep well and strong.” 

“ But my throat feels closed ; how is it possible for 
any one to eat in trouble?” 

“ If the people who are in trouble have got common- 
sense, they will eat,” said Sister Virginia ; “ now I must 
go back to my patient. It is the most cruel and selfish 
thing in the world,” she added, “ to do anything to make 
yourself ill at a time like the present ; you want extra 
food in a time of strain like this. If you will go now 
and have tea, or whatever you like, I will afterwards 
have something myself ; then you will be composed, and 
strong enough to sit by the Professor while I am out of 
the room.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” said Catty. “ If you’ll only let me 
help you to nurse him. I’ll eat all day long if it is 
necessary.” 

“ Ah, my dear, that’s right ; I guessed when I saw you 
that you were a brave child.” 


ii6 


CATALINA. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A FORLORN HOPE. 

The days that immediately followed lived ever after- 
wards in Catty Gifford’s mind like a long and dreadful 
dream. She forgot all about that crown of bay which 
she hoped some day might encircle her brow ; she forgot 
the Randall School of Art, the importance of the monthly 
composition, the great scholarship which was to be com- 
peted for in the next session ; all that hitherto made up 
the sum of her earthly existence was now of no mo- 
ment whatever to her. Every thought, every scrap of 
strength she possessed was centred upon one object — 
to snatch from the brink of the grave the best loved of 
all, to keep the one whom she most cherished still by 
her side. 

“ Please, kind Father in heaven, if father dies, let me 
die too,” prayed Catalina once or twice in a great agony ; 
she had run upstairs to the attic at the top of the house 
when she raised her frantic supplication to heaven. Here 
she had flung herself on her knees, and cried out of the 
very depths of her breaking heart. But just then the 
heavens seemed brass, and, as far as she could tell, there 
was no answer, no notice taken of her childish and long- 
ing prayer. A great gloom settled down over the house, 
hope seemed quite to have stood aside, and the majestic 
figure of Death seemed to be forever casting its shadow 
upon the threshold. Day after day the Professor lay 


\ 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


I17 

looking exactly like one dead; neither by word nor 
look was there the faintest sign of consciousness. The 
hand of Death itself was heavy upon him, and whether 
he would ever return from the Valley of the Shadow 
grew more and more doubtful as the weary hours went 
by. 

Sister Virginia was a capital nurse, and was at that 
time the only person who quite kept her senses. She 
could not only be a nurse, but also a valuable friend and 
adviser. She encouraged the unhappy children, and the 
still more bewildered and unhappy wife, to show plenty 
of self-control ; she also insisted on their attending to 
the rules of common-sense ; they must eat plenty, sleep 
plenty, take a sufficient amount of exercise, and, in short, 
attend to the rules of health for themselves, otherwise 
they would also be ill, and the trouble and expense 
materially increased. 

“ You must all help me,” said Sister Virginia. “ For 
the sake of the sick man, you must all be calm, you must 
eat plenty of good nourishing food, you must go out at 
stated times ; as far as possible you must all live your 
usual lives.” 

So the household managed somehow or other to keep 
on its way ; and by degrees, as little change took place 
in the sick-room, the family went on outwardly as if there 
was no tragedy hanging over them. Meals went on at 
the stated hours ; people went to bed and slept and rose 
again in the morning, wondering why they had been able 
to pass such long quiet hours while death was hovering 
over the house. And the man who was lying like one 
dead knew nothing of all this ; he was never conscious 
of the hushed and anxious steps which so constantly 


ii8 


CA TALINA. 


crept up to the bedside, and then went out of the silent 
room. 

On the 27th of June, the Randall School broke up. 
There was now no chance of Catalina sending in her 
composition. She must give up the thought of the 
scholarship which she had intended to try for at the next 
session. Teddy reminded her of it one day ; he had 
met one of her fellow-students, who had stopped to 
ask him how the Professor was, and to speak of Cata- 
lina. 

“ Did I really mean to try for the scholarship ?” she 
said; she put her hand to her forehead as she spoke. 
“Yes, of course, I remember,” she continued. “But it 
does not matter, Teddy ; nothing really matters now.” 

At last there came a day when Dr. Watson came into 
the sick-room and stood for some time looking anxiously 
down at his patient’s face. He felt the pulse in the Pro- 
fessor’s limp wrist, and taking out his stethoscope applied 
it to the heart. He was under the impression that 
there was no one in the room but Sister Virginia ; he 
did not see Catty, who was partly hidden by one of the 
curtains. 

“ The change I have been so long anticipating will in 
all probability come to-night, nurse,” he said. 

“ I thought so,” she answered. Neither did Sister 
Virginia know that Catty was in the room. 

“ There has been a faint movement once or twice this 
morning,” she continued, “ and the twitching of the lips 
has been rather more marked.” 

“There will be a change to-night,” continued the 
doctor, “ either for life or for death ; I shall come in 
about nine o’clock to see the patient again.” 


A FORLORN HOPE. II9 

“ Is your opinion favourable, Dr. Watson ?” asked the 
Sister, going with the doctor as far as the door. 

He shook his head and lowered his voice. 

“ I would not tell the poor things downstairs,” he said, 
speaking in a semi- whisper, but I apprehend the worst ; 
the weakness is very much marked, and the heart’s action 
sadly intermittent.” 

There was a faint moaning sound heard at that mo- 
ment, which seemed to proceed from the bed. The 
doctor and the nurse both started and looked round ; the 
motionless figure lay, however, as still as before, rigidity 
in every line, the face deadly pale. 

I fancied I heard something,” said the doctor ; “ I 
must have been mistaken. Expect me at nine o’clock to- 
night, nurse. If anything occurs between now and then, 
send for me immediately.” 

The nurse promised, and then accompanied the doctor 
out of the room. 

The moment she did so. Catty stole softly from behind 
the curtain ; she knelt down now by her father’s side, 
and pressed her dark curly head against his pil- 
low. 

” Dear father,” she said, in a clear voice, but full of 
great agony, “ if you are really going away, won’t you 
take me with you ? I can’t live in this world without 
you. Oh, father, take me with you if you go.” 

Had her words really pierced through the mask which 
seemed to enshroud all that was left of her beloved 
father ? She fancied for a moment that she saw a real 
movement of the lips ; but, no : she must have been mis- 
taken. When Sister Virginia entered the room. Catty 
went softly and silently out. 


120 


CA TALINA. 


“ Catalina,” said the nurse, catching sight of her face, 
“the day is a fine one; you ought to go out.” 

Catalina sadly shook her head. 

“ Poor little girl,” said the nurse to herself, “ I do 
wish I could spare her this terrible blow. How much 
she loves her father ; she is completely wrapped up in 
him.” The nurse went and sat down by the patient’s 
bedside. 

Sister Virginia, like a clever general, had marked out 
a plan of action for the entire house long before now. 
She was the one who was heading this forlorn hope 
against the awful intrusion of Death ; she was the one 
who knew most of the many vagaries, the many cruel 
tricks of man’s greatest foe. All the others were willing 
to follow where Sister Virginia led ; she had drawn up 
a chart, not only for the sick-room, but for the actions 
of every one else in the house ; so much time for sleep, 
so much time for food, so much time for rest and recre- 
ation. 

It was Mrs. Gifford’s turn to sit up during the early 
hours of the night which was immediately to follow. 
She was to go into her husband’s room about eight, and 
keep watch until one in the morning. While she sat 
there. Sister Virginia herself would lie down on a sofa in 
the adjoining dressing-room. 

Now Catalina, knowing what she knew, was deter- 
mined in her own little mind that she would take her 
mother’s place to-night. In order to do this, she must be 
careful to keep her terrible knowledge to herself. The 
nurse had evidently said nothing about it ; the doctor 
also meant to keep his own council. Catalina had over- 
heard ; she alone of the whole family knew. To-night 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


I2I 


the anxiously-looked-for crisis would take place. For 
life or for death, and to-night ! Whatever happened, at 
whatever risk, she would be present when her father — 
when — her pale lips could not form the voiceless word. 
At least the privilege would be accorded to her, who 
knew him best of all, who loved him as none of the 
others loved him, to be with him in the moment of 
his departure ; or she would be the first, the very 
first to welcome him back from the shadowy shores 
of Death. 

Her strong determination helped to keep her quite 
cool and calm; she was watchful over her own self; 
even her grief and terrible anxiety were kept in abey- 
ance. At dinner-time she was helped twice to meat, 
and even asked for a second supply of pudding. 

“You seem much better to-day, Catty, although you 
are so pale,” exclaimed Rose in a kind voice. Both the 
older girls were very kind to Catty now — so also was 
her mother. The blow which had fallen on the family 
seemed to knit them all more closely together. Rose 
drew Catty’s chair close to her own. 

“ You must go for a walk as soon as dinner is over,” 
she said. 

“ Catty can’t do that,” exclaimed Mrs. Gifford; “it is 
her turn to watch in the Professor’s room this afternoon. 
I am going out; it is true I did have an hour in the 
open air this morning, but it is a beautiful day.” 

“It is just a perfect day,” said Agnes; “there is a 
gentle breeze and ” 

“ Mother,” said Catalina, suddenly — her face went 
paler than ever, her lips trembled — “ mother, if you 
would sit with father for a couple of hours now, I could 

II 


F 


122 


CATALINA. 


be with him to-night ; I really want the air very badly,” 
she added, ” my head aches so.” 

Mrs. Gifford looked her little girl up and down. 

“ I don’t mind if I do,” she said. ” It was my turn to 
go into the sick-room at eight o’clock to-night, to stay 
there until one. Catty, you ought to be asleep at that 
hour.” 

” Mother, I cannot sleep well lately. I would much 
rather go out now, and take a walk, and then this evening 
I could watch by father.” 

” But the night is much the most anxious time, and 
you are so young.” 

“Young as she is, she is a very nice little nurse, 
mother,” said Rose ; “ I wish you could hear Sister 
Virginia talking about her. There is no doubt whatever 
that Catty carries an old head on young shoulders, and 
you know ” 

“Yes, mother,” interrupted Catty, “you know that I 
am not really by myself; Sister Virginia will be in the 
dressing-room, and I can call her if anything goes 
wrong.” 

“ Very well,” said Mrs. Gifford, “ I agree ; the fact is, 
I am nearly dead with sleep now, and should be right 
glad to go early to bed this evening. I’ll look after your 
father then. Catty, from three to five, and you may have 
your walk. Now, put on your hat at once, and go into 
Regent’s Park.” 

Catalina fled from the room ; she rushed upstairs, 
pinned on her hat, caught up her gloves, and ran down 
again. She paused for just a moment on the landing 
outside her father’s room ; the door of the sick-room 
was a little ajar. There was a screen which hid the bed 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


123 


and the patient ; but from where Catalina stood, she 
could just see the hem of Sister Virginia’s white dress. 
She stepped softly now inside the screen, and called the 
nurse, in a voice which was little more than a whisper. 
The Sister rose at once and approached the door. 

“ It is all arranged,” said Catty. 

“ What, my dear ?” 

“ Mother is going to take care of father while you 
are at dinner, and are having your rest, and I am going 
out.” 

“ But your mother is to sit up this evening.” 

“ No, Sister Virginia, 111 sit up then ; I am quite de- 
termined, I have arranged everything with mother, and 
she agrees. I came to you now. Sister, to beg of you 
not to interfere.” 

” Not to interfere ?” said the Sister, in some astonish- 
ment. 

” Please don’t. It is life or death to me ; you won’t 
put any obstacle in the way, will you, please, please?” 

Sister Virginia was well accustomed to scenes of 
tragedy; she read something of the truth in Catty’s 
eyes. 

“ I won’t say a word if you really wish it, Catalina,” 
she answered, gravely. 

The little girl caught her hand, and kissed it. 

“ Thank you,” she said ; ” I’ll be here to-night. Thank 
God, whatever happens. I’ll be here to-night.” 

The next moment she found herself in the open air. 
It was a lovely summer’s afternoon ; the softest breeze 
was blowing. London as it was, there was a scent of 
flowers somewhere in the air. Catalina looked round ; 
she saw a girl with a great basket of roses on her arm. 


124 


CATALINA. 


A sudden and passionate desire to take a bunch of roses 
into her father’s room seized her. She felt in her purse ; 
the purse contained a solitary shilling, only one. Catalina 
called the flower-girl to her side. 

How are you selling your roses ?” she asked. 

“ Two a penny, miss ; they are wonderful cheap to- 
day, these wired ones. You’ll buy a pen’orth, won’t you, 
miss ?” 

“ I don’t wont those wired ones ; I want these, here. 
Will you give me this big bunch for a shilling ?” 

One-and-sixpence, miss.” 

“ I have only got a shilling. It is a beautiful bunch ; 
I wish you would let me have it.” 

“I really can’t, miss. You can have some o’ these 
roses, two a penny; that will be twenty-four for your 
shillin’. I’ll give you twenty-six if you’ll take a whole 
shilling’s worth. Shall I count ’em out to you, 
miss ?” 

“No, I want this bunch ; I have only got one shilling. 
I do wish you would let me have it.” 

The girl looked at her. 

“ Why should I make you a present of sixpence, miss?” 
she asked, suddenly. 

Catalina returned her gaze with eyes full of passion. 

“Only because it would be kind — it would be a 
charity,” she said ; “ I have got this shilling, and no 
more. Did you never do a charity in your life ? You 
would feel very nice if you would do it to-day for me.” 

“ Well, I never !” exclaimed the girl. “ I am too poor 
to do deeds o’ charity, miss,” she said, speaking with a 
slow sort of reluctance. 

“ It would make you happy,” said Catalina. “ I want 



“ No, I want this bunch ; I have only got one shilling.” 




A FORLORN HOPE. 


125 


the roses for a very sick person.” The little girl’s eyes 
filled with tears, although none fell. 

“ I never !” repeated the flower-girl again. 

Catalina held out her hand for the bunch of roses. 

“ There, take it,” said the other girl, suddenly ; “ you 
are a queer sort, you are. It were never put to me that 
I were to do a charity ; take it.” 

‘‘ God bless you,” answered Catalina. She seized the 
roses, put the shilling into the girl’s hand, and then 
looked her full in the face. 

“ May I kiss you instead of the sixpence ?” she said, 
suddenly. 

“ Lor’ ! miss, you do make me feel queer,” said the girl. 

Catalina bent forward, and kissed her on her forehead ; 
she then hurried up Gabriel Street. 

The flower-girl looked after her, rubbing her forehead 
softly, and then went off, smiling to herself 

I never did a charity afore ; it’s a wonderful happy 
sort o’ feel,” she said, softly, under her breath. She sat 
down on the nearest curb-stone and began to sing ; some 
passers-by drew near and asked her the price of her roses. 
She sold more during the next hour than she had done 
yet that day ; she began to consider that Catalina had 
brought her luck. 

Meanwhile, Catalina, hurrying up Gabriel Street, 
buried her nose many times in the delicious fragrance 
of the roses ; they seemed to intoxicate her, to comfort 
her. 

“ When he gets better to-night, when he first opens 
his eyes, I hope he will look at these,” she said to her- 
self ; she felt strengthened and much more hopeful with 
regard to the issue so close at hand. 


126 


CATALINA. 


She was just passing the Randall School, and had 
turned down a street to her left, which would take her 
in the direction of Regent Park, when she heard a girl 
suddenly call her name. She stopped in some astonish- 
ment ; the girl was Rhoda Stanford. 

“ I am really pleased to see you,” called out Rhoda ; 
‘‘ how do you do ?” 

“ I cannot stay with you now,” answered Catalina ; 
how do you do ?” She held out her hand with some 
reluctance. I am in a great hurry,” she added. 

‘‘ Where are you going ?” 

I am going to Regent’s Park.” 

“ Why should you be in such a hurry to get there ?” 

“ I want to get there, Rhoda ; I really cannot stay with 
you now.” 

Rhoda looked Catalina up and down, from her pretty 
face to the toes of her shoes. 

” You know, of course,” she said, that the school has 
broken up and the long vacation has begun. I am leaving 
town on Monday; I just came round now to fetch away 
some of my things. By the by, you didn’t return to 
school during the last week or ten days ; I have won- 
dered why.” She gave Catalina a glance full of meaning, 
which the little girl was far too preoccupied to notice. 

“ I didn’t go back to school because my father has 
been very ill,” she replied. 

“ Your father — the great Professor?” 

” Yes.” 

Rhoda now turned and began to walk up the street by 
Catalina’s side. 

” If you are going to Regent’s Park, I may as well do 
the same,” she said ; “ 1 have nothing special to do. I 


A FORLORN HOPE. 12 / 

am really glad I met you. I don’t believe you know 
anything at all of what has happened.” 

Catalina looked at her companion in a vague way. 
There was a great gulf between her present life and her 
last day at school ; her head ached even to think of those 
matters which had once interested her so intensely. 

” 'I know you don’t particularly want my company,” 
continued Rhoda. ” Of course I am sorry your father 
is ill ; he must be very ill, or you surely would not have 
missed the end of the term, the most important time of 
all.” 

“ He is very ill, very ill,” answered Catalina. “ I am 
sorry,” she added, ” but I can’t talk about it.” 

” I don’t want to force your confidence ; you certainly 
look dreadfully worried, and not at all well. I repeat 
once more that I am really sorry about your father. I 
was out dining with some people the other night, and I 
heard them talking about him ; they said he was one of 
the cleverest lecturers in London.” 

Catalina did not reply. 

“ I suppose you are very proud of him ?” 

‘‘ That is not the word,” answered Catty, below her 
breath. 

” I see what you mean. Not that I at all understand 
your sort : you belong to those people who go in for 
affection and family ties, and all that sort of thing ; now 
it so happens that I am not at all proud of my parents, 
nor of any of my belongings for that matter. We are a 
give-and-take family : we don’t pretend to have any 
special sort of love for one another; in fact, my brother 
and I seldom spend a day without having a good, jolly 
quarrel ; and as to father and mother — well, mother is 


128 


CATALINA. 


somewhat old-fashioned, and has not at all my ideas with 
regard to society, and father is only useful because he 
keeps me in plenty of cash. No, I don’t understand 
your sort ; but then I have money at my command, 
and money is a very good thing. See this beautiful 
new bangle. Father gave it to me yesterday because 
it was my birthday ; is not the diamond in the clasp 
magnificent ?” 

“ I don’t know anything about jewellery,” replied 
Catalina. 

“ Don’t you ? Jewellery interests me very much. I 
suppose you didn’t send in the composition, with all this 
illness in your home ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Then you won’t be able to try for the scholarship 
next session ?” 

” No.” 

How queerly you speak ! I must say you are not at 
all communicative. Perhaps you don’t intend to return 
to the Randall School ; if that is so — if that is so,” con- 
tinued Rhoda, speaking with slow emphasis, ” we shall 
understand.” 

But here Catalina had opened her eyes wide; she 
started as if some one had awakened her out of a sort 
of trance. 

Of course I shall go back to the Randall School 
some day,” she said, “ but I have no time to think of it 
now.” 

“You evidently are quite in the dark with regard to 
all that has happened since you left. It is my duty to 
retail something to your memory. Don’t you remember 
the fuss there was the last day you were at school, about 


A FORLORN HOPE. 1 29 

the caricatures which were scribbled on the masters’ 
easels ?” 

“Yes, I remember now,” said Catalina; “I had for- 
gotten all about it until you mentioned it.” 

“So you say; it is often easy to forget unpleasant 
things.” 

“ I don’t understand you.” 

“ Well, I need not waste your time trying to explain 
to you now; I’ll just tell you what happened. You 
know there was to be a thorough search into the entire 
matter on the following Monday; well, there was. You 
cannot imagine what a commotion was kicked up. The 
three principal professors came into the girls’ studio, and 
Professor Forde gave us all a most solemn lecture. He 
was the spokesman for the others, and he accused us in 
round terms of being unladylike, vulgar, and sly; he 
said the guilty person must be discovered, and that not 
a stone would be left unturned to get her to confess her 
guilt. He spoke in the names of the other professors 
in this matter, and prohibited any one of the girls in 
our studio to compete for the scholarship until the 
matter was thoroughly cleared up. You can imagine 
the excitement. Finally, he asked each and all of us 
in turn if we had anything whatever to do with the 
matter; if we could throw any light on it; and a lot 
of other straight questions. Of course we each and all 
of us answered ‘ No,’ being each and all of us absolutely 
innocent.” 

“ But some one must have been guilty,” interrupted 
Catalina. 

“ Well, of course, some one is guilty, and the thing 
is to discover whom. You were the only pupil absent 


130 


CATALINA. 


from the school on Monday morning. Your absence 
was noticed ; Professor Forde asked about you, and said 
that he must put the same questions to you he had put 
to the rest of us, whenever you returned to the school. 
Think of that, Catalina. How will you like it when you 
find yourself had up before the entire school ? Think 
of the sensation.” 

” I shan’t mind,” said Catalina ; “ I shall simply tell 
the truth.” 

“ Oh, will you ? Well, we are all waiting for you. 
If you deny all knowledge of the act, then fresh steps 
are to be taken ; but nothing more can be done until 
you return to your place in the school. I did think that 
perhaps you would smuggle out of it : it occurred to 
me that it might be the best plan ; but I see you are 
going to brave the ordeal which is before you. The 
matter rests now, until you either deny having had any- 
thing to do with the caricatures, or until you confess 
your guilt.” 

“ I confess my guilt !” said Catalina, her eyes flashing 
angrily. 

She was fully awake at last. 

“ What next are you going to say to me, Rhoda ?” 
she exclaimed. 

“You need not get so red, nor look so angry; you 
either did it, or did not do it, surely.” 

“ Of course I did not do it.” 

“So you say; but you’ll have to say the same before 
the professors in school the first day next term. Fond 
as Professor Forde is of you, he is not going to let you 
off ; it is well known that you are the only one of us who 
can caricature. If I were you 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


I3I 

'^Do not say any more,” said Catalina. “I cannot 
imagine why you should suspect me, but you evidently 
do.” 

” I never said I suspected you ; qui s' excuse, s' accuse. 
Now I’ll say nothing more on that subject, for you have 
got so red and look so put out ; I never knew you could 
have so much colour. By the way, do you know you 
have left your string-bag hanging up in the dressing- 
room ; don’t you want it ? I can fetch it for you, for I 
am going back to the school now. I can leave it at your 
house, if you like.” 

“ No, let it be,” said Catalina ; “ it can stay where it is 
until next term. I really cannot stay another moment, 
Rhoda.” 

“Good-bye,” said Rhoda; she gave Catty a keen 
glance. The little girl held out her hand mechanically ; 
she had been angry for a moment, but already she had 
forgotten all about Rhoda, and the caricatures on the 
professors’ easels. Her sorrow was too heavy, too near, 
too dreadful. Minor matters could not affect her for any 
length of time on that dreadful day. 

As Catalina hurried out of sight, Rhoda stood and 
watched her retreating footsteps. 

“ What hot water she will find herself in presently !” 
murmured the cruel girl. “ I could almost be sorry that 
I have done what I did, but it is quite too late now; the 
crime must be traced home to her in order to save my- 
self Surely I would do more than that for my own 
precious self I was never one of those goody-goody 
folks who stick up for being unselfish, and all that sort 
of thing. I believe it is one’s bounden duty to look 
after number one. Well, I got into a mess without 


132 


CATALINA, 


meaning it, and Catalina must get me out ; that is easy 
enough, and I think I can manage it. Poor child, 
though, she must be suffering a good deal just now ; and 
I suppose, wonderful to relate, she is fond of that queer, 
frowsy old Professor. That sort of affection is quite 
beyond my comprehension. Well, she will have other 
troubles by-and-by. After all, though, she deserves 
them. Was not she the one to tell me that she saw 
nothing, no spirit, no power, no point in my art ? She 
dared to tell me what she really thought, and she gets 
on so well herself ; but she shall eat humble-pie, and 
screen me at the same time. I am glad, I am very glad.” 

Rhoda hurried back to the Randall School to fetch 
her forgotten property. Catty’s little bag was now the 
solitary article left in the dressing-room. The man who 
had charge of the different properties came up to Rhoda, 
and spoke about it. 

” The things ought to be fetched away,” he said ; ” we 
are going to whitewash and repaper during the holi- 
days. You don’t happen to know Miss Gifford, do you, 
miss ?” 

“ Yes, I met her just now.” 

“ Did you tell her, miss, that she left a bag here ?” 

“ I did ; but she said it didn’t matter. Her father. 
Professor Gifford, is very ill, Jackson. I don’t think 
she has time to think of anything of this sort just 
now.” 

” Well, she is a very nice little lady,” muttered Jack- 
son. ” Pd be the last to worry her, if she is in trouble 
of any sort. I suppose I had best keep the bag, then, 
miss ; I don’t suppose there’s anything of consequence 
in it.” 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


133 


It is impossible for me to tell you that/' said Rhoda. 
“ I would not throw anything away that is in it, if I 
were you, Jackson.” Rhoda looked eagerly as she 
spoke at the piece of folded paper which showed plainly 
through the meshes of the string. “ Put the bag away 
just as it is, in some drawer, until Miss Gifford comes 
back,” she added, and then she hurried out of the 
school. 

Meanwhile Catty, having reached Regent’s Park, sat 
down near one of the ponds, and watched the children 
as they sailed little boats on the water, and threw in 
morsels of paper, and laughed and made themselves 
happy after the manner of healthy children. Catty was 
fond of children, and at another time would have been 
tempted to join their play ; now she watched them with 
lack-lustre eyes. She had forgotten all about Rhoda 
and the Art school ; the tiresome subject of the carica- 
tures on the professors’ easels never once returned to her 
memory after she had parted with Miss Stanford. One 
thought alone filled all her horizon — the word “ father” 
seemed written straight across her sky. How much she 
had loved her father, how dear he had been to her, how 
completely the love he had given her and the love she 
had given him satisfied her heart ! Now he was lying 
between life and death. At this hour to-morrow she 
would know the best or the worst ; either she would be 
the happiest, the bravest, the most joyful little girl in all 
the world, or something would have struck so heavily at 
her young life, that she could never, never, happen what 
might, be the same Catalina again. 

A stray dog came up, and thrust its nose into her 
hand ; she had a great love for animals, and patted the 

12 


1 34 CA TALINA. 

creature now, and seemed to feel a little comfort from its 
mute caress. 

Suddenly glancing at the sun, she guessed that the 
time of her enforced absence from home must be nearly 
over, and turned, with a quickening of her heart-beats, 
in the direction of Mervyn Square. 

Just as she reached the hall door. Rose, neatly 
dressed, and looking bright and almost cheerful, came 
out. 

“ Ah, Catty !” she exclaimed, “ here you are. I hope 
you enjoyed your walk. Oh, what lovely roses !” 

“ They are for father,” said Catalina. “ How is he ?” 

“Just the same; he never seems to change from day 
to day. I could not have imagined an illness like his. 
Catty, those roses are exquisite, La France roses always 
are, and then the perfume ! Do let me take a sniff.” 

Catalina gave up the roses somewhat unwillingly. 

” Don’t smell them too much,” she said ; ” I want 
father to get all the perfume.” 

Rose laughed, and pushed the bunch back into Catty’s 
hands, 

” They must have cost a lot, you extravagant child !” 
she cried. 

“ Only my last shilling,” replied Catalina, briefly ; she 
did not add any more, but passed by Rose into the 
house. 

“ Tell mother,” called her sister after her, that I am 
going to the fishmonger’s to get some ice, and Sister 
Virginia wants a little more fruit.” 

” Yes,” answered Catty. She ran upstairs, met her 
mother on the way, delivered Rose’s message, and then 
went on to her own room. Here she put the roses in 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


135 


water, and then sitting down near the table on which she 
had placed them, began once more in her thoughts to go 
round and round that ceaseless dread which would always 
creep up and stare her in the face. To-night her father 
would pass through the gates either of life or of death ; 
by this time to-morrow she would either be the happiest 
girl in all the world, or she would be fatherless. Her 
lips moved in a sort of monotonous refrain : she had 
ceased to pray ; she had also ceased to struggle. If the 
blow was to fall, she felt that nothing in all the world 
could avert it. If, on the other hand ! She raised her 
eyes to the blue sky overhead ; a feeling of ecstasy shot 
for a brief moment through her numbed little heart, but 
then it passed. She had really little or no hope ; all was 
agony, a kind of dull despair. 

Presently Agnes ran upstairs, burst open the door of 
the room, and, seeing Catty, called out to her that tea was 
ready. 

“ You don’t look a bit better for your walk,” she 
said. I really wish you would not fret so dreadfully. 
Suppose ” 

Oh, please, Agnes, don’t let us begin to suppose any- 
thing to-night,” said Catalina ; “ I just can’t listen. Please, 
Aggie, don’t talk about it.” 

“ Very well, I won’t,” said Agnes. “ I really never 
saw anybody like you. Catty. How are you to live 
through life if you take things so hard? You are as 
white as a sheet, and you are getting as thin as a skele- 
ton. Now come downstairs with me. Oh, by the way, 
I have some news for you. Whom do you think I met 
this morning?” 

Catalina felt too tired and hopeless even to reply. 


CATALINA. 


136 

“ Well, you’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. No less a 
person than the great Professor Forde. He stopped me 
at once to inquire about father. Well, do you know what 
he said ?” 

What ?” asked Catalina, in a lifeless whisper. 

“ Now I wonder if this will wake you up. These were 
his exact words, ' How is my friend, the little professor?’ 
I stared, as well as I might ; I had not the least idea 
whom he meant. Then he explained. It seems that 
‘ the little professor’ is your nickname in the school. He 
spoke very kindly about you. Catty, and said that you 
showed much promise. Now surely that ought to cheer 
you up, ought it not ?” 

Catalina smiled ; her smile was very wan and sorrowful. 

I don’t believe that — that I really care,” she said. 

“ Oh, you are past everything if that doesn’t rouse 
you,” said Agnes ; ‘‘ well, at any rate, eat you must, or 
mother won’t let you sit up to-night.” 

Without knowing it, Agnes had at last struck the 
chord which was quite to awaken Catalina. Her eyes 
opened wide, and became full of alarm. 

” Of course I am going to eat plenty,” she said ; I 
am perfectly well. It will be most unfair if, if I am not 
allowed — oh, Aggie ! you’ll see ; oh, dear Aggie ! you’ll 
see that I am allowed — I mean that nothing is to prevent 
my sitting up to-night. You won’t let mother come in 
the way of that.” 

Dear me, child, you really are excited now with a 
vengeance. Why should you think so very much of 
staying up on this special night ?” 

I can’t tell you ; don’t ask me. It is all arranged, is 
it not ?” 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


137 


“ Well, of course it is arranged — that is, if you are 
well enough ; I certainly think you very queer, and by 
no means yourself” 

“ I am sad, but I am quite well ; I am going to have 
such a splendid tea. Yes, of course, it was very kind of 
Professor Forde to say that about me. Do tell me again 
what he said.” 

‘‘ Only that you are the little professor, and that you 
show promise.” 

“ Well, of course I am glad, I am delighted. It is a 
great thing to get his good opinion ; he praises one so 
little. Where did you say you met him, Aggie ?” 

“Just at the corner of this Square. He was hurrying 
by when he caught sight of me ; then he stopped and 
came up to ask about father. I am pleased that some- 
thing has roused you ; you look quite bright and much 
better now.” 

The two girls entered the dining-room. Tea was laid 
on the table, but they were the first to appear. Agnes 
seated herself in front of the tea-tray and poured out 
cups of tea ; she gave one to Catty, who drank it off, 
and then drawing a plate of bread and butter close to 
her, began to eat slice after slice with rapidity. The 
bread was as sawdust in her mouth, and the hot tea 
seemed only to choke and scald her, but she ate and 
drank valiantly, and even attempted to laugh. She 
told Agnes the story of the La France roses, and the 
means by which she had got the flower-girl to do a deed 
of charity. 

“You don’t mean to say you kissed her?” said 
Agnes. 

“ Yes, I did ; the roses were worth a kiss.” 

12* 


I3S 


CATAL/NA. 


“ It was very queer and uncommon of you, Catty ; 
just like you, I may say. Well, of course, they are 
splendid roses.” 

Mrs. Gifford entered the room, and Agnes resigned 
her place at the tea-tray. 

“ I don’t like your father’s state at all, girls,” said the 
mother, as she poured herself out a cup of tea ; “ some- 
times he seems scarcely to breathe. I can see, too, 
although she says nothing, that Sister Virginia is very 
anxious about him. I shall certainly stay up to-night.” 

But, oh, mother,” said Catty, uttering a cry, “ you 
remember you promised.” 

“ I promised ! — what, my dear ? — I really wish you 
would not worry me. Catty.” 

“ But I must, for you promised. You know I went 
out to-day on purpose that you should go to bed to- 
night ; it is my turn ; it is all arranged that I am to sit 
up.” 

“ My dear child, you are talking in a very strange 
way; surely this is not the moment to think about 
yourself. Your turn, indeed! Oh, my poor children, 
what do promises or anything else matter at an awful 
moment like this ! My dear, dear girls, I am terribly 
anxious about your father.” Mrs. Gifford burst into 
tears. 

Catty felt nearly driven to despair. Had she denied 
herself all day, had she left her father during the 
precious two hours when she might have sat alone by 
his side, for this ; just to be ignominiously banished from 
his side at the critical moment ? Her heart beat with 
great throbs, her agony made her almost fierce 

Mrs. Gifford’s brief shower of tears was quickly over; 


A FORLORN HOPE. 1 39 

she dried her eyes, and began to eat bread and butter, 
and to drink tea. 

“ I am better now,” she said, smiling at Agnes ; ” per- 
haps matters are not as bad as I feared when I sat in 
that room, and saw nothing but that dear, silent face. I 
was alone with your father for some time, and I really 
got quite nervous about his breathing, it was so very 
faint ; and then I fancied that Sister Virginia was more 
anxious than she cared to show. After all, it may have 
been fancy, and there may be no special change one way 
or another for some time longer. I am really dead with 
sleep and with fatigue. I shall just have a sofa wheeled 
into the room and lie there.” 

“ Then, mother, if you are as tired as all that ” 

began Catty. 

” Now, what is it. Catty ? I do wish you would not 
jerk out your words in that queer way ; you only add to 
my nervousness.” 

“ I don’t mean to, mother ; but may I sit beside father 
while you lie and rest on the sofa ?” 

“Yes, do let her,” said Agnes. “I declare the child 
is in such a state that I believe she will be ill herself 
if ” 

“ Oh, I shall — I shan’t be able to — to bear it,” said 
Catty, laying fearful emphasis on the word. “ Oh, 
mother, let me sit in father’s room ; I shall die if you 
don’t.” 

“ Dear, dear ! well, anything for a quiet time,” said 
Mrs. Gifford. “ Have your own way. Catty, only don’t 
blame me if the doctor is angry. I suppose you can 
stay perfectly quiet on that little chair at the back of the 
curtain. But remember now, Catalina, I shall allow no 


140 


CA TAL/JVA. 


tears and no nonsense of any sort If you cannot con- 
trol yourself, out you go.” 

I will control myself, mother ; I’ll be better than gold.” 

Catalina crept slowly up to her mother, went on her 
knees, raised Mrs. Gifford’s plump hand to her lips, and 
kissed it. 

‘‘ Thank you, mummy,” she said. 

“ Well, I am glad I have quieted you, my love. Now, 
Catty, jump up and cut me some bread and butter; I 
am really starving. I shall feel much better when I 
have had a really good tea. You might ring the bell; 
I should like Alice to poach me a couple of eggs. 
Of course, my dears, with the strain I am now under- 
going it is my duty to take as much nourishment as 
possible.” 

“ Of course, mother,” said Agnes, ringing the bell as 
she spoke. 

The eggs were ordered, and Mrs. Gifford made a 
capital tea. 

The rest of the long evening passed somehow, and at 
last the night began. A great and solemn silence settled 
down over the Professor’s home. Teddy had gone to 
bed early ; Rose and Agnes, who had both sat up during 
the previous night, had also gone to their rooms, worn 
out with fatigue. Mrs. Gifford, no longer at all anxious, 
was curled up comfortably on a sofa at the foot of the 
Professor’s bed. Sister Virginia and Catty now watched 
together. 

“You will lie down, won’t you. Sister?” said the little 
girl. 

“ Not to-night, I think, Catalina,” said the Sister. 

A very small fire was burning in the grate in a distant 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


I4I 

part of the room. The nurse went and stood by it as 
she spoke ; Catty followed and stood near her. Catty 
seemed to read the thoughts in her eyes. Sister Virginia 
was a girl of not more than five- or six-and-twenty, but 
she looked old and overworried to-night. She kept 
going backwards and forwards between the bed and the 
fire ; Catty stood near the fire and watched her with all 
her heart in her eyes. She dared not speak ; the ques- 
tion she longed to ask meant too much ; the passion and 
agony in her heart kept her silent. Presently the Doctor’s 
step was heard ascending the stairs ; he came quickly 
into the sick-room. Mrs. Gifford was so sound asleep, 
so worn out with fatigue, that she never heard him ; he 
went up and approached the bedside. The sick man was 
lying very still, strangely quiet and motionless; there 
seemed to be scarcely any breath coming from the 
faintly-parted lips : the long, thin face was gray, too ; 
under the closed eyes there were dark shadows. The 
Doctor bent low over his patient; he took the limp hand 
and felt the pulse which scarcely fluttered at all in the 
thin wrist. 

‘‘ Bring a candle, nurse,” he said, suddenly. 

Before the nurse could obey, Catalina rushed forward, 
took up a candle which was standing behind a screen 
in a distant part of the room, and brought it up to the 
Doctor. 

‘‘You ought to be in bed,” said Dr. Watson, just 
glancing at her, and then turning again to his patient. 
He took the candle from her hand and passed it back- 
wards and forwards before the sick man’s face ; he raised 
one of the closed eyelids and looked into the eye ; then 
he set the candle down. 


142 


CATALINA, 


“ A little brandy, please,” he said. 

The nurse gave it to him ; he poured some into a 
glass, and managed to get a few drops between the sick 
man’s lips. Having done so, he watched for a full mo- 
ment with a look of intense anxiety ; the faintest possible 
sound was heard, and the Doctor gave a sigh of satis- 
faction. 

“ He has swallowed it,” he said ; “ that is well : there 
will be a change immediately.” 

For life ?” asked Catalina. “ A change for life ?” 

“You ought to be in bed, Catalina; this is no place 
for you,” said the Doctor. 

She did not utter a word. She bit her lips convul- 
sively ; they almost bled. She clenched her nails into 
her hands and stood motionless. Her heart was now 
beating so loudly that she could scarcely hear the Doc- 
tor’s next words. He was saying something to the 
nurse: she gave him a sheet of paper; he hastily scrib- 
bled a prescription upon it. 

“ Take this yourself to the chemist,” he said ; “ I will 
watch here till you return. Be as quick as you can, 
nurse; it is just a chance.” 

“ A chance,” thought Catalina. “ Then the worst, the 
very worst has not come ; there is still a chance.” 

Mrs. Gifford slept on. Her gentle, satisfied, luxurious 
breathing was heard at monotonous intervals in the 
silent bedroom. The nurse had flown as if on the 
wings of the wind to get the medicine. The Doctor. 
with his watch in his hand, was again feeling the Pro- 
fessor’s pulse. 

“ One, two ; very weak, very intermittent ; one, two,” 
Catalina heard him murmur. 


A FORLORN HOPE. 


143 


“ Brandy,” he said suddenly to her. 

She brought it to him ; he poured a few more drops into 
a spoon, and parted the sick man’s lips ; again, after a 
pause, there was the faintest gurgling sound in the throat. 

” He has swallowed it,” said the Doctor again. 

The nurse hurried back. She carried a bottle in her 
hand ; the Doctor immediately poured some of its con- 
tents on a handkerchief; the room was filled with a 
strong and pungent smell. The Doctor held the hand- 
kerchief to the patient’s nose. The moment he did so a 
faint wave of colour like the slightest touch of rose 
swept over the death-cold face, the nostrils quivered, then 
the eyes opened —they opened for half a moment to close 
again. 

The Doctor looked round at this moment at Catalina. 
Her eager eyes were blazing like stars ; the colour of 
damask roses had risen to both her cheeks ; her lips were 
firmly closed. She looked strong ; the strength of love 
was stimulating her whole little frame. 

” Here,” said the Doctor, suddenly — he poured a lot 
more of the pungent stuff on the handkerchief — “ hold 
this to his face, not too close ; ah ! that’s right. Stand 
so that I may watch him. Hold the handkerchief just 
so ; he will get the whiff without any danger of suffoca- 
tion. He will probably open his eyes again. Let him 
see you when he does so.” 

” Yes,” said Catalina. 

She did exactly as the Doctor told her. Again there 
was that overpowering smell from the powerful stimulant, 
again the returning colour came into the Professor’s face, 
his eyes opened wide ; he looked directly into the dark, 
glowing eyes of his little daughter. 


144 


CA 7ALINA. 


At that moment it seemed to him that he saw right 
down into Catalina’s heart; all the love in it shone on 
her face, and spiritualised it. 

“ How beautiful you are, child!” he whispered. 

Catalina fell suddenly forward ; the Doctor took the 
handkerchief from her hand. 

” You are much better, Professor,” she heard him say ; 
then she tumbled on the floor in a state of unconscious- 
ness. 


CHAPTER IX. 

LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT. 

The turn for the better had really taken place, and the 
Professor began to mend. In a few days he was out of 
danger ; the attack of apoplexy was rapidly passing off. 
He was very weak, more like a shadow than a living 
man, but Death had withdrawn from his immediate 
vicinity; it might be and probably was still lurking 
in the background, but for the present the Professor 
had turned his face once more towards the shore of 
Life. 

Catalina was now found to be extremely useful ; there 
was no one so anxious, no one so willing as she to give 
up all her time to her father. The great excitement being 
over, the rest of the family began to breathe freely once 
again. Agnes and Rose, kind-hearted and good-natured 
girls as they were, had never that passionate love for 
their father which Catalina possessed. They wanted to 
go out, to see their friends, to put on their smartest 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT 


145 


dresses, their gayest ribbons, to live life on their own 
account once again. Catalina was therefore allowed to 
spend most of her time in the sick-room ; nothing in all 
the wide world could give her greater happiness. During 
these days she seemed really to live and breathe for her 
father. The Professor hardly ever spoke, he was yet 
incapable of many words ; but he used to follow Catty 
with his languid eyes, and when his eyes met hers, both 
pair of eyes smiled. Once, as she was passing close to 
his chair, he held out his feeble hand ; she clasped it in 
both of hers. 

“You are exactly like your grandmother. Catty,” he 
said ; his voice was so feeble that she had to strain her 
ears to catch the sound. 

The days flew on, passing into weeks, and even into 
months; July, with its heat and luxuriance, gave way to 
August. All the fashionable people had now left town; 
the roll of carriage wheels was hardly ever heard going 
through Mervyn Square. 

The Professor had sufficiently recovered to be moved 
from his bed to a sofa : the sofa was drawn up close to 
the open window; still very little air came into the 
languid room. Mr. Gifford’s face was much the same 
colour as the pillow against which it lay; his long, thin 
hands were almost transparent ; his blue-gray eyes 
seemed to assume, more and more each day, an un- 
earthly, far-away expression. Sometimes to Cata,lina, as 
she watched him, he seemed more like a dream-father 
than a real one. Still she knew that he was really there 
in the flesh, and during those days she was perfectly 
happy. She was too childish and young to know of 
any cause for alarm in the present state of things ; she 
Q k 13 


146 


CATALINA, 


lived altogether in the present, and would not allow the 
future to trouble her. 

Just at the beginning of the second month of the 
illness, Dr. Watson came upstairs as usual to see his 
patient. Sister Virginia had long ago resigned her 
charge, and Catty was sitting by the Professor’s side 
reading aloud to him when the Doctor entered the 
room. 

He came up to the foot of the sofa, and fixed his keen 
eyes full upon Professor Gifford’s languid face. 

“You are standing still; this will never do,” he said, 
suddenly. 

The Professor smiled. 

“ I am doing very well,” he answered. 

“ Not a bit of it. I repeat, you are standing still ; you 
want change, and as soon as possible. There is lovely 
weather somewhere at this time of year.” 

“ It is lovely here,” said Catalina, suddenly. 

“ Do you call this air lovely ?” answered the doctor ; 

this stifling, used-up atmosphere. Look at the trees in 
the middle of the Square, they are perfectly gray, they 
are eaten up with London dust, and so, for that matter, 
vare the living inhabitants of this house. What would 
I not give for a whiff of the real country air. That is 
what you want, Professor.” 

The Doctor again looked keenly at the pale, worn 
face on the pillow, then he abruptly turned on his heel. 

“ Where is your mother ?” he asked of Rose, whom 
he happened to meet on the stairs. 

“She has just come in. Doctor; do you want her?” 

“ Yes, I wish to speak to her. Run and ask her if she 
can spare me a few moments.” 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT 


147 

“ Will you come into the drawing-room while I fetch 
mother ?” 

Rose opened the door as she spoke and ushered the 
Doctor into the ugly and neglected room ; it looked even 
more dreary than the bedroom he had just quitted. 

“ Poor people, what will become of them ?” he re- 
flected. 

The next moment, Mrs. Gifford, flushed about the 
face, panting slightly as regards breath, but good- 
humoured and jovial, entered. 

“ Well, Doctor,” she said, “ and how is your patient ? 
I think he slept remarkably well last night ; I suppose 
you consider that he is rapidly gaining strength.” 

The Doctor gave her a keen glance. 

” I am sorry to tell you that I do not,” he answered. 

Mrs. Gifford gave a little start. 

“You don’t mean to say you are not satisfied?” she 
asked. 

“ I am by no means satisfied.” 

“ Oh, good gracious ! don’t tell me that you dread 
another attack.” 

“ No, I don’t dread anything of that sort, at least not 
at present ; but there are other troubles which require 
immediate attention. The fact is this, Mrs. Gifford, it 
is necessary for me to talk over your husband’s case 
most seriously with you.” 

Mrs. Gifford plumped down on the nearest chair. 

“ I am sure. Dr. Watson,” she began, “ I am always 
willing to listen to you. I thought the Professor was 
doing very well ; but no doubt I am not the slightest 
judge. Of course he had a really severe illness.” 

“ Apoplexy, my good madam ; he was at death’s door ; 


148 


CA TALINA. 


we pulled him from the brink of the grave by a miracle 
— yes, I repeat it, by a miracle.” 

“ Well, I did not know he was so ill as that. Why do 
you interrupt me ? you speak somehow as if it was my 
fault. What I was going to say is this, that as he 
has to be ill, it seems a sort of providential arrange- 
ment that it should take place during the long summer 
holidays ; he will doubtless be quite well again in 
October.” 

“That i3 just the point,” said Dr. Watson; “he will 
not.” 

“Will not?” Mrs. Gifford’s flushed face grew per- 
ceptibly paler. “ Do you mean to tell me,” she asked, 
“that the Professor will not be able to return to his 
duties in October ?” 

“ No, Mrs. Gifford. The illness through which he 
has just passed was of too serious a nature to make this 
possible. It was doubtless brought on by a variety of 
causes, but was mainly due to an overstrain of brain ; 
your husband must not attempt to use his brain for a 
year.” 

“ Merciful heavens ! a year ! But the Professorship 
won’t be kept open for him.” 

“ If, Mrs. Gifford, he begins to resume his ordinary 
duties within that time he will have another attack, and 
if he has another attack I cannot be responsible for the 
consequences.” 

“ Then you wish to tell me ” 

“ I am sorry to have to tell you the truth. It is ab- 
solutely necessary that your husband should take a 
complete year’s holiday. He must leave this house at 
once, and go into the country; he ought to spend every 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT. 1 49 

scrap of the fine weather out of doors. If he were a 
rich man I should order him to winter abroad.” 

” But he is by no means rich ; he has nothing in the 
world but his Professorship.” 

“ I am sorry to hear that. Have you no private 
means ? Forgive my asking you an abrupt question.” 

“ Certainly I forgive you, Doctor ; there is no use in 
not being quite frank with you. We have none of us 
any money except what my husband earns. His Pro- 
fessorship is worth a thousand a year ; on that we all 
live. A thousand a year is not a large income in the 
present day.” 

“ Not for your family,” said the Doctor. 

“ And as that is all we have,” continued Mrs. Gifford, 
“ you must see for yourself that it is impossible for the 
Professor to take a year’s holiday.” 

“ My dear madam, the impossibility does not lie on 
that side of the question at all; it is impossible for 
your husband to do a stroke of real work before a year 
has gone by. Doubtless the Professorship could be 
kept open for a year, provided Mr. Gifford finds a sub- 
stitute.” 

“ Yes, but the other man would have to be paid, and 
we cannot live on a penny less than my husband’s present 
income. I am quite willing to admit that under ordinary 
circumstances it might be best for Mr. Gifford to take the 
long holiday, yet as we are situated ” 

The Doctor fairly jumped from his seat. 

“ I throw up the case,” he said, '' if Mr. Gifford re- 
sumes work before the time I have mentioned. He must 
go away immediately. I want you to remove him from 
this house within a week. I will do all in my power 

13* 


CA TALINA. 


ISO 

to help you, but you absolutely must get him into the 
country. You ought not to delay an hour. He grows 
weaker instead of stronger; his energies are less, his 
outlook on life narrower each hour that he spends in 
this vitiated air. Why don’t you take the next train to 
Herne Bay and get rooms for yourself and your family 
this very day ?” 

At that moment Agnes entered the room. 

“ Come here, Agnes,” said her mother. “ I should 
like you to hear what Dr. Watson has just been telling 
me.” 

Agnes looked cool and pretty in her soft summer 
dress ; she wore a white hat which was pushed back 
from her fair face. 

“What is the matter?” she asked, looking at the 
Doctor, surprise in her tone. 

Dr. Watson raised his brows in irritation. 

“ My good friends,” he said, “ you seem very much 
surprised at my stating manifest facts. I wonder, for my 
part, that you have not seen the condition of things for 
yourselves. I was just telling your mother, Miss Gif- 
ford, that your father has been given back to you from 
the brink of the grave. I assure you that at the height 
of his illness I had not the least idea that I could pull 
him through ; he has been brought back to life as by a 
miracle, and now your mother thinks that he will be 
able to resume his ordinary work at the beginning of the 
autumn term. He must leave town immediately, and 
take a year’s holiday.” 

“Yes; and I am asking the Doctor what we are to 
do,” said the mother. 

“ You must just do what I tell you,” said the Doctor; 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT 


I51 

“ you must take the Professor out of London within a 
few days. If you will be guided by me, he may be as 
well as ever in a year, and be able to resume his work ; 
but if you don’t ” 

“ Suppose we don’t,” said Agnes, lowering her voice. 

“ Then, Miss Gifford, he will have a second attack, 
from which he will not recover.” The Doctor took up 
his hat as he spoke. A moment later he had left the 
house. 

The moment they were alone, Mrs. Gifford looked full 
at her daughter. 

“ Here is a nice state of things, Aggie,” she said ; 
“ now, what is to be done ?” 

“ Of course, mother,” replied Agnes, ” there is only 
one thing to be done ; we must be guided by Dr. 
Watson.” 

“ I am certain he exaggerates,” said the mother ; “ most 
doctors do ; it is their profession ; it makes them sound 
more important, and is in the long run the best thing for 
their own interests.” 

” I don’t think Dr. Watson does exaggerate, mother. 
The fact is, one of my great friends, Sophy Burns, is 
studying medicine — you know Sophy, don’t you ? Well, 
I met her only yesterday, and she was so much interested 
in father’s illness ; she made me tell her all that I could 
about it, and afterwards she said exactly what Dr. Watson 
has just said.” 

“ What did she say, my dear ?” 

“ Oh, this : ‘ Your father must have a year’s rest, 
Aggie,’ said Sophy, ^ and you ought to take him out of 
London at once.’ ” 

“ Then we shall all starve,” cried Mrs. Gifford ; she sat 


152 


CA TALINA. 


down again, crossed her fat hands on her lap, and burst 
into a flood of tears. 

But, mother, can’t you see for yourself that we should 
starve just as soon if father died?” 

Dear me, child, you talk as if I were planning his 
death. Of course he must be saved at any cost ; but 
still I state a^ fact : if he gives up work we shall starve. 
I suppose it is worth even going through starvation to 
save him. Anyhow, he must be saved ; but ” 

“ We may be very poor, but I don’t think it can be 
quite so bad as that,” said Agnes. 

“ I tell you that it is, Agnes ; oh, I must speak out or 
my heart will burst. You know that your father was 
always a very careless man about money.” 

“ I suppose so ; I really don’t know much about 
it.” 

Oh, but he was ; you never knew anything like it. 
At one time he used to manage all the income, and just 
allow me so much ; and, if you believe me, he would 
not even fill in the counterfoils of his cheques. He 
hadn’t the faintest idea how much he had in the bank. 
Everything was going to ruin ; then I begged of him to 
give me his money as it was paid to him, and he con- 
sented, and ” 

“ Well, mother, he could not do more than that,” said 
Agnes. 

“ No, and at first I thought it a good thing; but now 
I am by no means so sure ; the fact is, my dear child, 
I spent the money, and there never seemed to be half 
enough. You know you and Rose wanted lots of 
dresses.” 

“ Oh, mother, we were really economical, and after 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT 1 53 

we learned scientific dressmaking we saved a good 
deal.’" 

“ Still, dear, it was always give, give, and there was 
not enough money ; and now, Aggie, my child, I am 
heavily in debt.” 

“ I feared this,” said Agnes ; ” how very unpleasant ! 
What do you mean by heavily in debt, mother ?” 

“Well, I owe money in all directions. It is six 
months since I paid the butcher ; I owe a heavy bill 
also at Fawcett’s, the grocer’s. Then the June quarter’s 
rent is a month overdue, and I heard from the landlord 
this morning. Oh, my dear, I hate to think of it all. A 
thousand a year is a very little sum to meet the claims 
of a household of this sort ; and now it seems that that 
thousand is to be taken from us. What are we to do, 
Aggie ?” 

“ Poor mother,” said Agnes, “ I wish I could help 
you.” 

“ My dear, you don’t know what a burden there is on 
my mind. Although I always try to be jolly before you 
children, I am so overpowered with anxiety that my 
nights are getting quite broken. There are the debts, 
and how are they to be met ? Even if your father was 
quite well, and able to return to his work in October, 
and we were not obliged to have any special expense 
about him, things would be bad enough ; but as they 
are ” 

“ Well, they are pretty desperate,” said Agnes. “ I 
had better go and fetch Rose ; we must have a consulta- 
tion right away.” 

“ What good will Rose do ?” said Mrs. Gifford, in a 
fretful voice ; “ she has got no money. The person we 


154 


CATALINA. 


really ought to consult is some one with two or three 
hundred pounds to spare, who would lend it for a time, 
a few years, and charge very low interest. Of course, 
naturally, I should pay it back, and then matters might 
look a little less serious.” 

Well, all the same. I’ll fetch Rose,” said Agnes, after 
some deliberation. 

She left the room, and going up to Rose’s bedroom, 
called her name. She was not there. Agnes considered 
again, and then softly opening the Professor’s door, looked 
in. Rose and Catty were both with their father. The 
two girls were seated near one another, and Rose was 
helping Catty to fill some vases with flowers. The fair 
face and the dark one were bending close together ; they 
made a beautiful picture ; the Professor’s shadowy face 
in the background seemed to complete it. He was feel- 
ing strangely happy just now; no care seemed to have 
the least power to touch him. He smiled when he saw 
Agnes, and called her name in that voiceless whisper 
which was more pathetic than his most impassioned 
speeches had ever been in his days of health. 

“ Dear father,” said Agnes ; she bent down over him 
and kissed him. There was quite an unlooked-for tender- 
ness in her tone. “ I will come back presently and sit 
with you for a little,” she said. — Rose, mother wants 
you at once.” 

” Well, I cannot go until I have finished arranging 
these flowers ; there can be no hurry,” said Rose in her 
leisurely voice. 

” Let her stay for a bit,” said the Professor ; “ I see 
very little of Rose. It pleases me to watch her ; she 
arranges flowers with much grace.” 



Rose was helping Catty to fill some vases with flowers. 




LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT 


155 


“ Perhaps I will do instead/' said Catalina. 

“ Mother sent for Rose, but perhaps you would 
really be best," answered Agnes, looking with much 
attention at her little sister. “ Come along, then. Catty, 
at once." 

The girls left the room together. When they got on 
the landing, Agnes put her arm round Catalina’s waist ; 
they both entered the drawing-room together. 

“ What in the world have you brought Catalina for ?" 
said Mrs. Gifford ; “ she is no manner of use." 

“ I don’t agree with you, mother," said Agnes. “ I 
think she will be a great deal of use. She knows just 
as much about things and has just as wise a head on her 
shoulders as Rose." 

“ Father wanted Rose to stay with him," said Catalina, 
“ and you know, mummy, if I can help you," she added, 
“ I will." She laid her little hand on her mother’s 
shoulder as she spoke. 

‘‘Dear me, child," said poor Mrs. Gifford, “goodness 
knows I want some one to help me just now. The fact 
is this. Catty, I am in awful trouble." 

“ Oh, mother, is it anything about father? Does, does 
the Doctor think ?" 

Mrs. Gifford gave an impatient exclamation. 

“ There you are as usual, jumping to conclusions," she 
said. “ No, there is nothing special to alarm us about 
your father just now; he is going on as well as I suppose 
he can go on, seeing that he has been so dangerously ill. 
I never did understand that his illness was so serious 
until Dr. Watson spoke to-day." 

“ Oh, mother," said Catty. 

“ You guessed it then, child?" 


TALINA. 


IS6 


“ Mother, I lived through it," said the young girl in 
an intense voice. 

Mrs. Gifford gazed at her; Catalina was seldom in 
touch with her mother. Mrs. Gifford failed altogether 
to comprehend her now. 

“ Catty may as well know the worst," said Agnes ; " we 
can tell Rose afterwards. Father wished to keep her, 
and I thought Catty might as well know." 

It is simply this," said her mother : “ your father will 
never be well again " 

" Mother !" interrupted Catalina. 

“ Do let me finish what I was going to say, child ; 
the Doctor says that your father will never be well 
again if he does not get a whole year’s holiday. Good- 
ness knows where the money is to come from, if the 
Professor is to be idle for a whole year. But, of course. 
Dr. Watson thinks nothing at all about that ; I never 
heard a man speak in such a determined, I might almost 
say rude, way ; his tone quite seemed to imply that I 
was answerable for your father’s bad illness. Nothing I 
could do or explain would get him to alter his verdict. 
The Professor must have a year’s holiday, and must go 
into the country immediately." 

“ I am very glad," said Catalina ; “ I know father 
wants very different air from what he can get in 
Bloomsbury just now. I am glad Dr. Watson has 
spoken.” 

That is all very fine for you ; but tell me, pray, where 
the money is to come from ?" 

“ The money," said Catalina, in a vague way. 

“ Yes, for goodness’ sake, don’t stare at me. I repeat, 
where is the money to come from ?" 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT. 1 57 

‘‘ I really don’t know, mother ; I suppose out of the 
bank.” 

Mrs. Gifford jumped to her feet. 

” Now, Agnes,” she said, “ I put it to you, what was 
the use of bringing a child like that into the room ? 
Really, Catty, you are worse than a baby. Suppose 
there is no money in the bank ; then what is to be 
done ?” 

” But, mother, there must be,” said Catalina. “ Really, 
I am not the baby you seem to think me. I know, of 
course, that father is paid quarterly ; he has two hundred 
and fifty pounds a quarter. There must be plenty of 
money in the bank.” 

Mrs. Gifford wrung her hands in despair. 

” I have something more to say,” she continued. 
“ Take it for granted at once, Catalina, that there is not 
fifty pounds in the bank ; no, nor thirty. Take this also 
as a fact which has got to be met — how it is to be met, 
Heaven only knows — that I owe at this moment between 
three and four hundred pounds to the tradespeople round 
this place.” 

You owe money, mother ; mother, you are in debt ?” 
Catalina’s tone was full of extreme horror. 

“ Yes, miss, I am in debt, heavily in debt ; and there 
is something like thirty, perhaps thirty-five, pounds in 
the bank to meet it all. Now, when you have realised 
that, you will perhaps begin to understand what I feel 
when I am told that your father must have a year’s holi- 
day, and must leave town immediately.” 

Catalina did not reply at once. She walked to one of 
the windows, half hid her little figure behind an ugly 
drab curtain, and looked drearily out. The problem 


158 


CATALINA. 


which was given to her to solve was a large one ; it was 
impossible for her to take it in in all its bearings, never- 
theless it staggered her, and brought a perplexed ex- 
pression not good to see on so young a face. 

I must say that sometimes doctors talk rubbish,” 
muttered Mrs. Gifford, beginning to pace up and down 
in front of the fireplace. 

Her attitude, and the way she walked up and down, 
reminded Catalina of the dreadful day when she had 
come home just before the Professor’s illness. 

“ There is one thing we ought not to forget,” said 
Catty, facing round suddenly as she spoke. “ God has 
been wonderfully good to us. He has spared father; 
and if he is quite well in a year — oh, surely it is worth 
giving him the chance, even if we do have to live on 
very little money.” 

“ But I tell you, child, there will be no money to live 
on. Even your father would not get well if there was 
no money at all. Something must be done, and what 
that something is, I cannot tell.” 

“There is Uncle James; would not he do something?” 
said Catalina, suddenly. 

“ I would not ask him for all the world.” 

“ But why not, mother ? He has plenty of money, 
has he not?” 

“ Plenty of money — I should rather think he has. 
He is one of the richest calico merchants in Man- 
chester — my only brother, too ; but he and I quarrelled 
when I married the Professor, and from that day to 
this ” 

“Oh, I know,” interrupted Catalina; “you told me 
the story, don’t you remember, about a month ago.” 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT. 1 59 

She moved restlessly ; her mind was full of active 
thought. 

“ I think, mother, you ought to go to him,” she said, 
again ; at least you ought to write and ask him.” 

” I wish I dared, but I don’t. He is a very queer man. 
When long ago I fell in love with the Professor he was^ 
poor, and there was, I don’t mind you knowing it now, 
girls, another man whom my brother wanted me to 
marry. I was engaged to the other man, and I threw 
him over for the Professor, and he was my brother’s 
friend, and my brother was furious. From that day to 
now he has taken no notice of me, and I have been too 
proud ever to remind him of my existence. I used to 
think myself, as the wife of the Professor, in a much 
better social position than my rich brother, who had only 
made his money in trade ; but, children, that was all 
nonsense, sheer nonsense. Oh, the state I am in now ; 
how James would crow over me now if he knew ! He 
would say, ‘ I told you so. Rose.’ How dreadful it is 
when people say, * I told you so !’ ” 

"‘Well, but look here, mother,” said Catalina, “the 
thing to consider is whether there is the least use in 
applying to Uncle James.” 

“ Child, there is no use ; don’t waste your thoughts 
nor my time considering the matter.” 

“ But, mother, I think there is use ; it seems to me it 
is the one only chance. If you are afraid to see him, I 
am not. Where did you say he lived ?” 

“ In Manchester, of course.” 

Give me my fare to Manchester, and I will go and 
see him.” 

“ Catty, what in the world do you mean ?” 


i6o 


CATALINA. 


I can but fail, but I don’t think I will. Give me a 
third-class fare to Manchester and back, and I will go 
straight off to see him. I can go earty to-morrow.” 

” You talk utter nonsense. I could not hear of 
it.” 

“ Well, mother, it would be better for you to go your- 
self; but if you will not, let me. I am not at all afraid. 
After all, he can but refuse ; but somehow I don’t think 
he will. If I go to see him I will tell him all about 
father; I will let him know what sort of man father 
really is. Perhaps he will be willing to help us. Do, 
mummy, let me try.” 

“You are an extraordinary child,” said Agnes; “do 
you mean to say that you would have the courage ?” 

“ It is not a question of courage, it is a matter of neces- 
sity,” said Catalina. “ I wish mother would go herself ; 
but if she will not, I will.” 

“ I can’t and won’t, so that’s flat,” said Mrs. Gifford. 

“ Well, then, I can and must,” said Catalina. . “ Do 
you know, mother, what a third-class fare to Manchester 
will be ?” 

“ You cannot do it, child; it is not to be thought of.” 

“ Mother, I will do it.” 

“ It is the wildest folly ; then, too, you could not travel 
alone.” 

Catalina could not help laughing. 

“ Why not ?” she said. “ I am not a baby. Some one 
could see me into the train here, and I shall know very 
well what to do when I get to Manchester. I shall 
simply have to get into a cab and drive straight to Uncle 
James’s office.” 

“ You are the most extraordinary girl I ever heard of 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT. l6l 

in my life,” said Mrs. Gifford. She looked Catalina up 
and down as she spoke. 

Go away, Catty, now,” said Agnes ; “ mother and I 
will talk this over. If there is anything in your sug- 
gestion, we can let you know.” 

Catalina left the room ; she went straight upstairs to 
her own attic, opened the window, flung herself on her 
knees by it, and began to summon up all the courage 
and resolution of her eager heart. 

” I will go,” she said to herself; “it is the one only 
chance. Father must have this year’s rest ; he must get 
into the country immediately. If Uncle James is rich, 
and if I tell him just how things really are, I feel certain 
that he will help us. I will put the matter just as plain 
as plain can be. I know I shall have courage when the 
time comes. Oh, yes, I must, I will go.” 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Giflbrd was speaking to Agnes. 

“ That child’s idea is not worth a moment’s consider- 
ation,” she said. 

“ I don’t know as to that, mother ; Catty has wonder- 
ful courage ; she is not like any of the rest of us.” 

She takes after her grandmother, who was a re- 
markable woman,” said Mrs. Gifford. “ Well, I repeat, 
her suggestion is not worth considering. I should not 
dream of sparing the money to send her on this wild- 
goose chase.” 

“ And what do you mean to do at the present moment, 
mother ?” 

“ Well, this : whether your father lives or dies, whether 
he has his year’s holiday or resumes his work at the 
beginning of next session, whether we stay here or go 
into the country, we must eat for the time being ; and we 
/ 14* 


CATALINA. 


162 

can’t eat if Gray and Thompson refuse to supply us with 
bread and meat.” 

‘‘Things have not become so bad as that?” asked 
Agnes. 

‘‘ Yes, but they have. I have had letters, most im- 
pertinent letters, from both of them this morning. It is 
really disgraceful, and we such good customers.” 

‘‘ Well, mother, what do you intend to do ?” 

“ Oh, pay them something on account ; that is what I 
was going to speak to you about. I shall give them 
each a cheque for live pounds ; that will reduce my 
banking-account to goodness knows how little.” 

“ Mother, don’t you know exactly what you have in 
the bank ?” 

“ No, my love ; only that it is terribly little.” 

“ Well, then, mother, let me do something also. I 
will go straight off to the bank and find out exactly how 
your balance now stands. I shall have plenty of time 
between now and dinner, and you in the meantime can 
take cheques to Gray and Thompson. I think, too, 
mother, that you had better let me draw a couple of 
pounds, for that idea of Catalina’s does not seem to me 
half bad.” 

“ I tell you it is utter nonsense,” said Mrs. Gifford, 
angrily; “if anybody knows my brother, surely I 
ought to. Do you suppose for a moment he would 
listen to a word a conceited little thing like Catalina 
said to him ?” 

“ There is no saying, mother, and it is a last chance. 
If I were you I should let her try it. She is a very 
brave child, and very uncommon ; he might listen to her 
if he would not to you.” 


LITTLE KNIGHT-ERRANT. 


163 

“ Well, Agnes, I can’t waste time talking over this 
now. Go to the bank and get particulars with regard 
to my account, while I hurry off to pacify those two 
ogres. Oh, why are tradespeople so unreasonable ?” 

Agnes could not refrain from a laugh, which had very 
little merriment in it. 

“Bakers and butchers must live like the rest of us,” 
she said, “ and if they are never paid ” 

“ Oh, don’t begin to moralise now, my dear ; there is 
something terribly wrong somewhere. Well, I am off; 
just see that your father has his beef-tea before you go 
out, Agnes.” 

Agnes left the room, and soon afterwards started on 
her mission to the bank. Mrs. Gifford also went out. 
Rose, unconscious of any special storm, sat tranquilly 
with her father, and found the minutes flying by not 
unpleasantly while she read aloud to him Victor Hugo’s 
Toilers of the Sea. She read the novel in the original 
French, and with a pretty accent. The Professor listened 
and found the time pass quickly. He was living in a 
dream-world, and had not in reality come back to the 
everyday earth ; he was still in the borderland, and the 
strange sights, sounds, and experiences of that shadowy 
country filled his horizon. There was, in short, a glass 
between him and the real working world ; nothing 
could now make him anxious, nothing could now make 
him really unhappy ; no cares oppressed him — he was 
content to drift, and the drifting was not in the direction 
of life. 

When Rose saw Catty she immediately closed the 
book, and a moment afterwards left the room. Catalina 
sat down on the floor by her father’s side ; she took up 


164 


CA TALINA. 


the Toilers of the Sea, and tried to busy herself over its 
pages. Between her and the written words, however, 
there came the terrible verdict of the Doctor ; the awful 
knowledge that they had no money, and that her mother 
was heavily in debt, seemed to fill all her horizon. Cata- 
lina knew vaguely that this sort of thing ought not to 
be ; she knew that her father toiled quite sufficiently 
hard to keep his family out of all mere money difficulties. 
She was too loyal, however, to blame her mother ; she 
only felt something of the true spirit of the knight-errant 
within her ; if it might be her privilege to turn the key 
in this difficult lock, if she might be the one to bring 
order out of this chaos. Oh, yes, she would be the one, 
she would have no fear. Dreadful as Uncle James might 
be, she would beard this ogre in his den. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 

Since his illness Mr. Gifford went to bed early. On 
this particular evening, when he was settled for the night, 
Catalina stole softly downstairs — her mind was now ab- 
solutely made up. Her character was much stronger 
than her mother’s, and she felt sure that she should win 
the day. She would get her mother’s consent; she 
would really start for Manchester on the following morn- 
ing. She peeped into the dining-room; Mrs. Gifford 
was not there. She explored the rest of the house, and 
finally discovered her parent having an angry discussion 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 1 65 

with Alice in the kitchen. Alice was out of coals, and 
Mrs. Gifford refused to allow any more to be ordered. 
Her voice was high and sharp ; she was accusing Alice 
of burning the coals a great deal too quickly. Alice, 
with a still redder face, was on the point of giving notice 
to leave, when Catty’s eager, little dark face appeared on 
the scene. 

“ Mother, can I speak to you ?” 

“ Well, no. Catty, unless it is something very special.” 

It is — it is of the utmost importance — I want to see 
you at once.” 

“ How troublesome and positive you are ! Well, go 
upstairs to the dining-room and wait for me there.” 

Catty turned to leave. Mrs. Gifford looked full at Alice. 

” I shall get in coals by the hundredweight,” she said ; 
‘*you waste them. It is beyond all reason that the 
last ton should have been used up so quickly.” She 
turned as she spoke and followed Catty very slowly up- 
stairs. 

The moment she got into the dining-room, Catalina 
ran forward, took her mother’s hand, pulled her forward, 
and pushed her down into an easy chair. 

” Now, then, mother,” she said, “ I have settled every- 
thing in my own mind.” 

” Good gracious ! Catty, what about ? How terribly 
excited you look ! what have you settled ?” 

“ Why, everything about my journey to-morrow.” 

” Your journey to-morrow ! well, what next?” 

“ Oh, mother, you know I am going — you know there 
is no other way out of the difficulty ; you may as well 
say ‘ Yes’ first as last, mummy, for I really am quite 
determined.” 


CATALINA. 


i66 

“You are an extraordinary child ; at times I think 
there is something not quite canny about you. How 
dare you set up your opinion in contradiction to your 
mother’s !” 

“ I don’t, mother, really ; but when there’s nothing 
else to do. Oh, please listen. I have found an old 
ABC, and I looked up the trains. A very good train 
leaves for Manchester at 7.15 in the morning; it gets 
thereat 11.55. Mother, I mean to take that train. I 
am going to-morrow morning to Manchester to see 
Uncle James. If I am lucky, and really have an inter- 
view with him, I may be able to return to London by 
the train that leaves Manchester at 3. Then, by this time 
to-morrow night ! Oh, think of it, mummy” — Catalina 
broke off here abruptly ; her eyes began to sparkle — 
“ Oh, if I only succeed, how happy, how splendid, we 
will feel by this time to-morrow night !” 

“ Well, you are a queer child,” said Mrs. Gifford. 
“ There is no denying that it would be a comfort if your 
Uncle James would put matters straight for us now, and 
of course he would not feel it; the money which would 
make us so comfortable would never be missed by him. 
It is brave of you, of course, to offer to go; but your 
bravery is caused by ignorance — you have not the least 
idea what my brother really is.” 

“ Please describe him, mother, you who know him so 
well. Tell me what he is like.” 

“As obstinate as a mule,” said Mrs. Gifford. “When 
he takes the bit between his teeth nothing living can 
alter him ; not all the tears, not all the coaxings in the 
world can move him one inch out of his own way — he 
is a pragmatical, determined, obstinate man. Oh, of 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. l6j 

course he is good enough — I have no fault to find with 
him on that score; but if you could guess the scenes he 
and I have had, and how he always on every occasion 
won the victory, you would not have much courage to 
put yourself into the lion’s den now, and that I can tell 
you.” 

Catalina’s face became a little paler as her mother was 
speaking. 

“ I am going, anyhow,” she said. “ I am sorry he is as 
bad as you describe him, but I can but fail.” 

“ Well, it will cost a good deal of money,” said Mrs. 
Gifford. “ Even third-class cannot be done for nothing, 
Catalina. You had much better give it up; it is quite a 
wild-goose chase.” 

“ Mother, I am going. As to travelling third-class, 
of course I should not dream of going in any other 
way. I am not afraid ; I am nearly fifteen. Why 
should not I do this ? I would do a good deal more 
than this to help father, and to help you, mummy,” she 
continued, fixing her bright eyes on her mother as she 
spoke. 

Mrs. Gifford’s own eyes filled with tears. 

Come to me. Catty,” she said ; “ you really are an 
extraordinary child. When I look at you I feel im- 
pelled to believe in you. Oh, it is utter nonsense trust- 
ing to the strength of a mere child ; but still somehow 
you are not like the others. You were wonderfully 
brave when your father was so ill ; I believe you love 
him very much.” 

“ Oh, mother, you know,” said Catalina. Her voice 
sank almost to a whisper. 

“ Yes, child, I know. Well, who would suppose that 


i68 


CA TALINA. 


a little thing like you, the youngest girl in the house, 
should be willing to put her head into the lion’s den.” 

“ Mother, the lion cannot bite off my head. Oh, I 
assure you I am not a scrap afraid.” 

“ You will be when the time comes ; he is a terrible 
man, is James, to oppose. You will see that when the 
time comes.” 

At least I won’t think of it beforehand. I will just 
remember all about father, and I’ll think of your poor, 
tired, worried face, and of the house, and of the money 
that is wanted so badly, and, in short, of all that success 
means and of all that failure means. I am just de- 
termined not to fail. Please give me the money for my 
fare, mother.” 

“ It is madness, all the same,” said Mrs. Gifford, “ but 
still ” 

“ Still, you will let me try it. That train which leaves 
King’s Cross at 7.15 in the morning is a very good one. 
I am almost safe to return home to-morrow night. See, 
mother, here are the fares: 15s. 5d. third-class; double 
that, return.” 

” Yes, it is an awful lot of money,” said Mrs. Gifford ; 
“ it will cost more than thirty shillings, and then you 
have to get to King’s Cross, you know. Catty.” 

“ If the morning is fine I can walk.” 

“ But you never were at King’s Cross in you life.” 

“ No, mother, but I can easily ask my way ; and when 
I get there, porters have tongues, have they not ? Please, 
mother, trust me — just think of what it means — just 
think of what will happen if I don’t go.” 

“You need not ask me to think of that,” said Mrs. 
Gifford ; “ it is never out of my head one moment day 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. l6g 

or night. Sometimes I think my poor brain will turn. 
Agnes brought dreadful news back from the bank. 
How much do you think is now left to my account? 
Only fifteen pounds; just you reflect on what that 
means, Catty.” 

“ I cannot, mother, for I don’t really understand the 
value of money. I only know by your face that we 
shall all starve, and father will die if something is not 
added to that fifteen pounds. I am the one to see about 
that ; I am to be your good angel, mummy ; I am to be 
the one to overcome the dragon in his den. Oh, mother, 
I feel something like* St. George of England. Please, 
dear mother, give me the money.” 

“ It will take almost all of the precious two sovereigns 
I drew out of bank to-day,” said Mrs. Gifford. 

“ But think what a rich return it will bring,” said Cata- 
lina, kissing her on her cheek. ” Now you will trust 
me, won’t you ?” 

“ I will, you dear, strange, brave child.” Mrs. Gifford 
suddenly and completely broke down ; she flung her 
arms round Catty’s neck, and let her head rest for an 
instant on the child’s shoulder. Lying so, she could 
hear Catty’s heart beating. But Catty herself stood 
brave and firm ; she shed no tears, nor did she tremble ; 
she kissed her mother two or three times, and pushed 
back the faded hair, and patted her flushed cheek, and 
presently the poor woman, sinking into a chair, drew 
Catty to sit down by her side, and began to open out 
her heart to her. 

“You are like your grandmother,” she said; “you 
are not the least bit like me. Your grandmother was a 
very steadfast, strong, beautiful woman; she managed 
H 15 


70 


CA TALINA. 


all the housekeeping. When she died I took the reins 
into my hands, and then we began to get into trouble. 
I never could quite live within our income, and so the 
dreadful debts began. I wonder, child, when you grow 
up, if you will be as strong and beautiful as your grand- 
mother was.” 

“ I hope so, mother. I always like to hear about 
her.” 

I have a miniature of her upstairs,” said Mrs. Gif- 
ford ; ” it is set round with pearls (by the way, I have 
no doubt that the frame would sell for something ; that’s 
a good thought) — well. I’ll show you the miniature some 
day. I can easily slip it out of its setting. And now, 
my love, as you have to be up so early, had you not 
better go to bed ?” 

Catalina scarcely slept that night : her mind kept 
going over and over her coming interview with her 
uncle ; her heart was still beating too fast to allow her 
to get any feeling of rest. She knew well that until she 
had accomplished the task she had set herself she could 
not hope to know a quiet moment. 

“It is just like being in the thick of the battle,” she 
thought ; “ but I am glad I have got something really 
very hard to do for father’s sake.” 

She got up soon after six on the following morning, 
and went downstairs. The morning happened to be a 
lovely one ; the sun shone brightly in at the windows. 
When Catty reached the dining-room the first person she 
met was her mother. 

“ Why, mummy, what have you got up for ?” 

“ Well, child, I hope I am not quite heartless. Did 
you think I would let you go off by yourself, you poor 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 171 

little mite. No, not 1. See, I have put the kettle on the 
gas-jet to boil ; I am going to give you a couple of nice 
fresh eggs for your breakfast, and a cup of cocoa — it is 
more nourishing than tea or coffee.” 

I am really not at all hungry. How is father this 
morning?” 

” He is asleep at present ; he spent a very fair night.” 

” Mother, you look tired yourself.” 

My love, I am about done, and that’s a fact. I 
need the rest and the freedom from care as sorely 
as your father does. Oh, Catty, child, suppose you 
fail !” 

“ Suppose I succeed,” said Catty, brightly. 

“ I cannot imagine why I am such a fool as to let you 

go- 

Well, mother, I have got the money now,” said 
Catty, “ and I assure you I am not going to give it back 
to you. You shall have it back, and with interest, by- 
and-by ; but until then ” 

Mrs. Gifford made the cocoa and boiled the eggs. 

Eat up your bread and butter, child,” she said ; ‘^get 
as good a breakfast into you as you possibly can.” 

“ Mother, I wish I were hungry, but I am not. I 
wish you would not wait on me; it does not seem 
right.” 

I like to do it, child ; the fact is I am too restless 
to sit still. Catty, I mean to go with you to King’s 
Cross.” 

Do you, really ? How nice, how sweet of you ! 
Now I will confess something. I did feel rather 
nervous at the idea of going to King’s Cross by 
myself.” 


1/2 


CA TALINA. 


“ Poor child. Well, your mother is at least good for 
that much. Now. Catalina, tie on your cape, and let us 
start.” 

They left the house together. The air outside was 
deliciously fresh. Catalina felt full of hope ; she began 
to skip as she walked. 

” I had better tell you all I can about your uncle,” 
said Mrs. Gifford, as they got over the ground. 

” Please do, mother. I really know little or nothing 
about him. All I am certain of at the present moment 
is, that his name is James Ell worthy ; that he is rich, 
and that he lives somewhere in Manchester.” 

” He is one of the richest calico merchants in the city,” 
said Mrs. Gifford. “ I have no doubt that he makes 
thousands and thousands every year.” 

“ Is he married, mother ? Has he little girls of his 
own ?” 

” He is married, and I believe he has one child.” 

“ Only one, mother ?” 

“ I never heard of any more ; but really I know so 
little about him that I cannot be quite certain. I think 
he has a girl, and she must be something about your 
age.” 

“ Then perhaps I shall meet her ; that would be nice. 
In what part of Manchester does my uncle live? I 
ought to know that, ought I not ?” 

Well, my dear, he used to live in one of the big 
squares. I think Donville Square was the name ; but 
for all I know he may have moved into quite another 
part by now. That will show you, will it not, how very 
little communication I have had with him all these 
years ?” 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 


173 


“ Of course, mother.” 

“ It is just as if I had no brother. It seems too ex- 
traordinary and dreadful that I should apply to him now 
in my need.” 

“You are not applying to him, mother. I am doing 
that, remember.” 

“ Yes, yes ; be sure you make him understand that. It 
would never do for him to think that I had to eat humble- 
pie to him. Be sure you get him plainly to know that it 
was all your thought. Catty.” 

“Yes, mother, certainly.” 

“ You are very plucky.” 

“ Don’t praise me any more, or I shall get conceited,” 
said Catalina. “ Had we not better step out a little 
faster, mother ; I am so afraid of being late ?” 

“ We have plenty of time, my love. By the way, 
Catalina, you are dressed in your very best ; is it not a 
pity to wear that nice hat and cape going a long, dusty, 
railway journey ?” 

“ I must look my best, mother. It is important that I 
should appear as well dressed as possible when I go to 
see my uncle. You see I want to call all my powers 
into play.” 

“ All your powers, child. Now, what do you mean ?” 

“ My powers of eloquence,” said Catalina. “ And 
also the power that looking nice can give a girl ! Oh, I 
am certain, mother, people are much more apt to be kind 
if you look nice.” 

“ Beautiful, you mean,” said Mrs. Gifford, suddenly. 

Catalina blushed and turned away her head. 

“ Are you vain enough to think yourself beautiful ?” 
said her mother. 

15* 


174 


CA TALINA. 


“ I am not vain about it, mother,” answered Cata- 
lina. 

They soon reached the great railway station. Catty 
bought a return third-class ticket for herself, and held it 
up gleefully to her mother to examine. 

“ Now the deed is done,” she said, with a smile. They 
crossed the bridge and approached the platform where 
the train for Manchester was waiting to receive its pas- 
sengers. Catalina chose a corner in an empty third-class 
carriage. She seated herself, and her mother stood by 
her side. Soon afterwards the carriage began to fill ; 
one or two rough-looking farmers took their places in 
opposite corners, then a motherly woman got in with a 
large basket, then a couple of girls, very little older than 
Catalina. 

“ Oh, my poor child, I have given you nothing to eat 
on your journey,” said her mother; “and of course 
you’ll want something to read.” 

“ I have too much to think about to care to read,” 
answered Catalina, in a whisper ; then she added, “ and 
I have had an excellent breakfast, and am not a scrap 
hungry.” 

But you will be before you get to Manchester.” 

” No, indeed, I will not. I want to look at the coun- 
try; remember a railway journey is a great treat to 
me.” 

“ I cannot let you go without something,” said Mrs. 
Gifford. She hurried away, and presently returned 
with a bath bun in a bag, which she thrust into Cata- 
lina’s hands. Just as the guard came up to shut and 
lock the door, Mrs. Gifford eagerly put in her face at the 
window. 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 1 75 

“ I forgot to tell you, Catalina, your uncle’s business 
address ; it is somewhere in Curzon Street ; Ellworthy 
& Co., Calico Printers. I cannot give you a clearer 
address than that ; but doubtless any cabman will know 
the number. Good-bye, my dear child. God bless 
you.” 

The great train moved slowly out of the station * soon 
it quickened its speed, and Catalina found herself flying 
through the country. She leant back in her seat; a 
feeling of rest stole over her. She had won her point, 
she had really started on her journey ; nothing in all the 
world could now alter that fact. Whether she succeeded 
or failed, her great mission lay straight before her. She 
had time now to examine her fellow-passengers ; the 
certainty that she must go through the task which she 
had set herself made her feel quite cool, and even gave 
her a sense of leisure. She noticed that the woman who 
sat opposite to her stared at her a good deal. She was 
a good-natured, fairly stout, comfortable body of between 
forty and fifty years of age. Her basket seemed to 
occupy a good deal of her attention ; she often opened 
it, and dipped her hand in to extract a sandwich or a 
piece of chocolate or something else in the edible line. 
After partaking of light refreshments of this sort, she 
would close the basket, look out of the window, glance 
at Catty, and then fix her eyes lovingly on the basket 
again ; suddenly, after about the fifth time of opening, 
Catalina saw a bag of chocolates being lifted out of 
its receptacle ; the next minute it was thrust under her 
nose. 

“ Pray, take a chocolate, my little lady,” said the 
woman ; “ I can recommend them as first-rate ; they are 


176 


CA TALINA 


made by my daughter. You taste one, please, miss; 
you never ate anything better in the whole course of 
your life.” 

Catty was not inclined for chocolates just then; but 
seeing a wistful, eager expression in the woman’s eyes, 
she dipped her hand into the bag and took one. 

“ It is quite delicious,” she said, after she had eaten 
it. ” Do you mean to tell me that your daughter made 
it ?” 

‘‘Yes, indeed she did, my dear;” the woman smiled 
now all over her motherly face. “ Ain’t it prime good 
stuff? My daughter Lottie, she attended a big school 
of cookery, and there’s no end to the good things she 
can make. It’s fairly wonderful what girls will do in 
these days to support theirselves.” 

“Does your daughter really support herself?” asked 
Catalina, interested immediately. 

“I should think she just does. Why, she ain’t cost 
me a penny for close on three years.” 

“ Is she grown up ?” 

“ Well, she ain’t to say old ; but she is past seven- 
teen.” 

“And she has supported herself for nearly three 
years ?” 

“Yes, miss, that she has. She took it into her head 
that she would not be a burden on me soon after her 
fourteenth birthday ; she had always a turn for cooking, 
bless her. I have a brother in the confectionery line ; 
and nothing would serve Lottie but she must go to ’im, 
and ask ’im if he wouldn’t learn her how to make fancy 
dishes and light puff pastry and all the rest; but Peter 
couldn’t be bothered with her, so then, do you think she 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 


177 


gave it up ? Not a bit of it ; she come to me, and 
coaxed me that I couldn’t rest, to let her join cookery 
classes. Oh, I was unwilling enough, for she was nothing 
but a child ; but she wouldn’t listen to me. She seemed 
to pick up cooking as if by magic, and when she come 
home in the evening she would be trying on her ex- 
periments, and beautiful they did taste, too. Then, 
when she knew a little more, she went back to her uncle 
and showed ’im all she had done, and he was fairly 
delighted. He has took her on regular, and she makes 
all kinds of wonderful dishes, and he has quite a run 
on his cakes and chocolates. He pays her well now 
for her services. It’s giving me money, not I giving it 
to her, she has been doing for close on to three 
years.” 

“ No wonder you are proud of her,” said Catalina. 
“ How happy she must be !’' 

“ Yes, poor child, she is that,” said the mother. She 
is about the best girl a woman ever had. She did take 
on the burden of life, it is true, when she was full young; 
but bless you, miss, it ain’t done her no harm. You 
try one o’ these little cocoa-nut rocks, now, miss. 
Lottie made ’em for me last night, and first-rate they 
are.” 

“ So they are,” said Catalina, biting at one with great 
contentment. “ I am sure you must be awfully proud 
of your daughter,” she added. 

“ Well, to be sure,” said the woman, “ I thank the 
Almighty for giving me such a good child.” She sank 
back into her own seat as she spoke. Catalina went on 
biting bits off the cocoa-nut rock ; it was quite the best 
she had ever tasted. She thought a good deal of Lottie 


178 


CATAL/NA. 


and her clever way for supporting herself as the train 
moved rapidly on its way. 

“You’re going on a visit, ain’t you, miss?” said the 
woman, presently. “You are young-like to be leaving 
home, and travelling so far by yourself” 

“ I am going to Manchester,” said Catalina. 

“Well, and Manchester is a good step from London; 
it’s a long way for a little miss to be going all by her- 
self” 

“ I enjoy it very much,” said Catalina. 

“ That was your ma that saw you off, worn’t it, miss ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You must have felt sore at saying good-bye to her. 
You’ll be away a good while, I guess?” The woman 
looked curiously at the child as she spoke. She did not 
fail to notice that Catalina carried no railway-rug nor 
any luggage, as far as she could see. 

“ I am only going for a very short time,” said Catalina. 
“ I want, if possible, to return home to-day.” 

The woman threw up her hands. 

“ My word, now, you don’t mean that,” she cried. 
“You cannot intend to tell me that you’ll travel to Man- 
chester and back the same day ?” 

“ I hope I shall be able to do so. I am wanted at 
home very badly.” 

“ Well, now, to be sure ; you do look a thoughtful, 
handy sort of child, although you wear your hair in 
a bush, and ain’t, so to speak, so tidy as you might 
be; but to go to Manchester, and to come back the 
same day — it beats belief Did I hear you say, miss, 
or was I mistook, that you were on a visit to Mr. Ell- 
worthy ?” 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. 


179 


** Yes ; do you know him ?” asked Catalina, with a start. 

“ Know ’im, miss ? ’tain’t likely that a poor woman 
like me would know one like ’im ; of course I know of 
’im. Are you related now, miss ?” 

“ I am his niece,” said Catalina. 

When she said this the farmers at the opposite side 
of the carriage bent forward to give the little girl a 
critical and somewhat admiring glance. As to the 
woman opposite, she gazed at Catalina with a great 
increase of respect. 

“ Lor’ ! to think o’ that,” she said. She drew back 
her dress in order that it should not come into contact 
with such a very aristocratic young lady. 

“James Ellworthy is the richest merchant in Man- 
chester,” she said, presently. 

“ He is my uncle,” said Catalina, “ but I don’t happen” 
— she blushed — “ I have never met him yet,” she con- 
tinued. 

“ My word, how glad he’ll be to see a bonny little lady 
like yourself.” 

“ I hope he will,” said Catalina. “ Have you ever seen 
him, Mrs. ” 

“ Perry is my name, dear.” 

“ Have you ever seen him driving about, or met him 
anywhere, Mrs. Perry ?” 

“ Scores of time have I seen him, love, driving past in 
his carriage. The brougham in winter with a pair of 
greys, and the landau in summer with a pair of chest- 
nuts. My own people are all Manchester born and 
bred ; but the Ellworthys are sort o’ princes in the place ; 
their riches is past believing.” 

“ Did you notice his face when you saw him driving 


i8o 


CATALINA. 


past in the carriage ?” said Catalina, a timid note coming 
into her voice. 

Mrs. Perry instantly screwed up her eyes with a sharp 
expression. 

“A poor relation, I guess,” she murmured under her 
breath. “ Now, I wonder what the poor little miss does 
want with him,” 

“ You would like me to tell you what sort of face he 
has ?” she continued. “ How could I tell when he 
passed me by like a flash ; but people say of ’im ” 

‘‘ Yes. What do people say ?” 

“They say he’s a ’ard man, like most of those to 
whom the Almighty entrusts riches.” 

“ Hard,” murmured Catalina. She lowered her eyes ; 
her heart sank like lead within her. She thought she 
had better not question any further. She leant back 
against her seat, and wished she had secured a news- 
paper or some book to hide her burning face from the 
inquisitive gaze of the woman who sat opposite to her. 
She was suddenly startled by hearing a man at the 
opposite end of the carriage address her. 

“You’ll pardon me, miss,” he cried. “But if you 
want to know anything about Ellworthy, the calico mer- 
chant, I can tell you summat; I have known Ellworthy 
most of the time since I was a lad. He’s ’ard, no doubt; 
but ef he’s ’ard, he’s straight, straight as a die. Any 
one who tells the simple truth to Ellworthy, and ain’t 
afeared to stick up to it — why, he ain’t half a bad 
sort. That’s my opinion, miss, and I know ’im 
well.” 

“ Thank you,” answered Catalina. The colour returned 
to her face, and tears lay very near her eyes. 


THE JOURNEY TO MANCHESTER. l8r 

** I have got my clue at last,” she whispered to herself. 

I must just tell the simple truth.” 

By-and-by the train reached Manchester. It puffed 
into the huge station ; the porters flung open the carriage- 
doors, and Catalina, with the rest of her fellow-passengers, 
stepped on to the platform. She stood there for a mo- 
ment in absolute bewilderment; the train happened to 
be a particularly full one, and several people had come 
to meet friends and relations whom they were expecting. 
It appeared to the poor little girl that all in that crowd 
had some person to welcome them and to give them 
a word of greeting except herself The man who had 
spoken to her about her uncle, for instance, was imme- 
diately clutched by two tall, well-made girls who pro- 
ceeded to hug and kiss him, and then to hang on to 
either of his arms. Mrs. Perry was accosted by a woman 
so like herself that Catalina concluded she must be her 
sister. Mrs. Perry immediately offered the contents of 
her basket to the woman, and Catalina heard her men- 
tion the wonderful Lottie’s name. All her fellow- 
passengers had forgotten her ; she stood alone. A por- 
ter came up and touched his cap. 

“ Any luggage, miss ?” he asked ; “ can I do anything 
for you ?” 

“ I have no luggage, but will you please fetch me a 
cab,” said the little girl. 

“ You had best follow me, miss ; I’ll take you straight 
out to the cab-stand.” 

Catalina went with him ; a few moments later she 
found herself seated in a hansom. The porter bent for- 
ward. 

What address, miss ?” he asked. 

i6 


i 82 


CATALINA. 


“ Ellworthy & Co., Calico Printers, Curzon Street,” 
said Catalina. 

This was shouted to the driver, who immediately 
whipped up his horse, and Catalina found herself driving 
rapidly through the crowded town. 

“ Certainly, without any doubt, I am the most daring 
girl in the world,” thought the child. “Well, I am in 
for the whole thing now. What will Uncle James think 
of me? I have no time now to consider; I daren’t get 
frightened. I must do it or die.” 

The streets were very noisy and very crowded. The 
people, to Catalina’s unaccustomed eyes, seemed far 
rougher than the London folks. She was too much 
preoccupied to notice the fine buildings, the solid aspect 
of the centre of the city. She drove down wide streets, 
the horse dashed quickly round corners, she was whirled 
through one or two imposing-looking squares, and at last 
found herself in a narrow street which seemed even more 
crowded than its fellows. Beautiful as the day was, the 
entire place had a hazy, smoky aspect. Catalina remem- 
bered afterwards that this was the smoke from the fac- 
tories which, rising ever and ever on the air, rested just 
above the city in a continual cloud. This cloud shut 
away most of the sunshine and affected the little girl’s 
spirits in spite of herself The cab suddenly drew up 
with a jerk, and Catalina knew that she was outside her 
uncle’s office. She got out tremblingly, and landed with 
somewhat shaky legs on the pavement. She paid her 
fare. After doing so, her little purse contained nothing 
whatever but the return half of her ticket. She hid this 
for greater safety in the bosom of her dress, and then 
looked around her, up and down the street. There were 


BEARDING THE OGRE, 


183 


a great many men about, but in that one glance she did 
not see a single woman. She suddenly felt very lonely 
and a tiny bit afraid ; she would have given half the 
world for the touch of a sympathizing hand. If only 
Mrs. Perry were here, poor Mrs. Perry, whom she had 
never met before that morning. After all, had she not 
done a silly thing ? had she not been too daring ? No, 
no ; a sudden vision rose before her. She saw the Pro- 
fessor — he was lying back on his white pillows, his face 
as white as the pillow against which he leant ; she noticed 
the queer, far-away expression in his eyes ; she seemed 
to see him sinking down a little nearer, and a little 
nearer, to the other world, day by day, and hour by 
hour. 

“ I am here and I will do my duty,” thought the child. 
“ The cords of love must draw my father back again to 
life. Oh, yes, anything is worth doing with such a mo- 
tive as mine.” She turned abruptly, entered the large 
office through swinging glass doors, and the next instant 
found herself in a large room fitted up with desks. Here 
several men were sitting busily writing. Catalina went 
timidly forward. 


CHAPTER XL 

BEARDING THE OGRE. 

There was a moment’s pause in the big room when so 
unusual a visitor put in an appearance ; then a young 
man with red hair and a disagreeable smirk on his face, 
rose slowly from his desk and went to meet the stranger. 


184 


CA TALINA. 


When he did this, all the other clerks put their pens be- 
hind their ears and stared very hard at Catalina. She 
knew, without quite recognizing the fact, that many pairs 
of eyes were fixed on her face. The red-haired clerk 
asked her in a half-familiar, half-friendly way, if he could 
do anything for her. 

“ I want to see Mr. Ellworthy,” she replied. 

''Ellworthy; do you mean the chief, miss?” asked 
the young man. 

I want to see Mr. James Ell worthy,” repeated Cata- 
lina. “ Is he here ?” 

Of course he is here,” said the clerk; “this is his 
head-office. May I ask, miss, if you have an appoint- 
ment with him ?” 

“ No, I have not an appointment,” replied Catalina, 
“ but I am his niece,” she added suddenly. “ I have just 
come from London on purpose to see him. Will you tell 
him that I am here, and will you ask him if he can spare 
me a few minutes of his time ?” 

“ Ellworthy’s niece,” said the red-haired clerk, turning 
abruptly on his heel, and, glancing at all his fellow-clerks, 
he smiled ; the other clerks put on glances of different 
degrees of significance — they amused themselves for a 
full minute looking at Catalina. The rose bloom came 
out on her cheeks under their gaze, and her little face 
became full of strange and wonderful beauty. 

A gray-haired man at the end of the room came for- 
ward at this moment. 

“ What is your name, miss ?” he asked. 

“ Catalina Gifford.” 

“ Will you follow me into this room. Miss Gifford ?” 
said the clerk. “ Gentlemen, if I were you I would re- 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 


185 


turn to your duties.” The clerks, especially the red- 
haired clerk, scowled at the ‘elderly man, and bent their 
heads once more over their uncongenial tasks. Catalina, 
with the roses on her cheeks and that half-defiant, half- 
daring light in her eyes, was quite an interesting study 
to them. Mr. Ellworthy’s niece, too ! They knew a 
good deal about him, but had never heard before that 
he possessed a niece. 

“ Take a chair, my dear,” said the gray-haired man, in 
a kindly voice. He had shown Catalina into a tiny room 
at the back of the big office. He pulled out an arm- 
chair for her. 

“ Will you give me the exact message you wish me to 
convey to Mr. Ellworthy?” he said. 

“ Yes,” said Catalina. “ Please tell him that I am his 
niece, Catalina Gifford ; that I have come from London 
on very special business.” 

Do you mean to tell me that you came from London 
this morning.” 

Yes.” 

And you have no appointment ?” 

No.” 

“ Your uncle does not expect you ?” 

No, indeed, he does not ; I don’t believe that he 
even knows that I exist.” 

“Well, miss, I will take him your message, but I 
doubt if he will see you. He is very busy just now, and 
dislikes, I mean he never allows, any of his family to call 
here; but, of course, I will give him your message. 
Miss Gifford.” The man looked very fixedly at Catalina 
as he spoke ; he had a kind fatherly sort of face. He 
slowly left the room. 


CA TALINA. 


1 86 

Catalina’s heart beat very hard; she called all her 
courage to her aid. 

“ If I get nervous now, if I lose my head, all will be 
lost,” she murmured to herself. ‘‘All must not be lost. 
I will not fear ; the thought of father will keep my cour- 
age up.” 

“ Follow me, please, miss,” said the elderly clerk, 
coming back. “ Mr. Ellworthy will see you for a mo- 
ment.” 

Catalina rose at once. The clerk took her into a wide, 
cool passage; they walked to the farther end where a 
lift awaited them ; they got in and were instantly raised 
to the next floor. Then the clerk took Catalina down 
another broad passage ; they passed through some swing- 
ing doors, and found themselves outside one made of 
massive oak. The clerk tapped in a respectful manner, 
and then slowly opened the door. Catalina had a vision 
of a splendidly but heavily furnished room ; it looked 
large, cool, somewhat dark and very lofty ; her little feet 
sank into the pile of a rich Turkey carpet. A tall man, 
with bushy whiskers, a somewhat bald head, dark eyes, 
and a stern cast of face, was standing on the hearth-rug ; 
he looked very big, very unapproachable. Catalina 
glanced anxiously round for the friendly face of the clerk ; 
he was gone. 

“Your name and your business, little girl?” said the 
tall man. 

“ I am Catalina Giflbrd; please are you Mr. Ellworthy?” 

“ James Ellworthy is my name.” 

“ I am Catalina Gifford,” repeated the child, “ and, oh. 
Uncle James, my mother is your sister. I have come 
to you because I am in great trouble.” 



“I am Catalina Gifford; please are you Mr. Ellworthy ?” 





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BEARDING THE OGRE. 1 8 / 

“ Indeed ! you seem to make out the relationship very 
neatly.” 

There was not the ghost of a smile, nor the faintest 
scrap of sympathy on Ellworthy’s hard face. 

‘‘ You have come to me because you are in trouble?” 
he repeated, very slowly, ” and your name is Catalina 
Gifford ; and if your mother is my sister, then you are 
my niece. Is not that so ?” 

Catalina nodded ; she could not find words to 
reply. 

“ Well, have the goodness to state your business.” 

Fora wild moment the little girl wished that she could 
be buried under the floor ; but once again her thoughts 
flew back to her father. 

“ A desperate case means desperate action,” she whis- 
pered to herself. 

“ I am waiting,” said Mr. Ellworthy. 

“ Mother didn’t wish me to come,” said Catalina then, 
“ but we are in trouble, and you are my uncle. Things 
are very bad at home.” 

“ The old story. I might have guessed it,” said Ell- 
worthy, impatiently. He sank into a chair and pushed 
up his hair. His action roused Catalina’s anger and 
added to her courage. 

“ Yes,” said she, “ things are very bad at home just 
now. We want some one to help us very badly. If no 
one will do so, then my father. Professor Gifford — -Uncle 
James, he is one of the best men who ever lived — will 
die.” Here she covered her face with her hands. 

” Have you anything further to say ?” asked Mr. Ell- 
worthy, after a pause. 

“ Yes, I have this to say ; you are rich, and we are 


i88 


CATALINA. 


poor, and mother is your very own sister. I have come 
here, Uncle James, to ask if you will help us.” 

‘‘ Anyone who tells the simple truth to Ellworthy, and 
ain’t afeard to stick up to it, why, he ain’t half a bad 
sort,” the man in the train had said to Catalina. There 
was an awful pause when her little voice dropped again 
into silence. Mr. Ellworthy did not utter a single word. 
After a time he pushed a chair forward. 

“ Sit down,” he said. 

Catalina did so. 

“ Now,” he said, abruptly, “ when you can get over 
your nervousness, perhaps you will tell me something 
more.” 

“ I am not nervous. Uncle James.” 

” Nor frightened, eh ?” 

“ Not now.” 

“ Plucky,” murmured Mr. Ellworthy under his breath. 

Aloud he said : ” How old are you, Catalina ?” 

” Fifteen.’^ 

“ Can you assure me, on your word of honour, that 
your mother has not sent you to me ?” 

” She has not. It is my own idea ; I first thought of 
it; I acted on it. No one wanted me to come.” 

Does your mother know that you are here.” 

” Yes, she had to give me money for my fare ; she was 
troubled at my coming. I came to you because there 
was no one else to go to.” 

“ Did she tell you what sort of a man I was ?” 

Catalina hung her head. 

” Mother seemed to think it was hopeless my coming 
to you,” she said, after a pause. 

“Ah, she thought that, did she. I wonder, after 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 189 

hearing her opinion, you had courage to do what you 
have done.” 

“ I was desperate,” said Catalina. 

“You have appealed to me, then, as a last resource?” 

“Yes, sir, quite as a last resource.” 

Catalina looked full up now into the dark, stern face. 
Suddenly an expression passed over it which caused her 
heart to beat ; she saw something like a twinkle in the 
eyes; the mouth, however, was still firm as a line. Mr. 
Ellworthy gave her a full, keen glance, then he went to 
a speaking-tube in the wall, and removed the stopper. 
He called down some words through the tube which 
Catalina could not hear ; a voice replied, and a moment 
later, the gray-haired, respectable-looking clerk entered 
the room. 

“ Oliver,” said Mr. Ellworthy, “ I want you to fetch a 
cab.” 

“Yes, sir,” said the man. 

“ And when you have fetched it, put this young lady 
in, and go with her immediately to my house in Donville 
Square. See Mrs. Ellworthy, and tell her that I have 
sent Miss Gifford to her care, and that Miss Gifford is my 
niece. You will stay with us to-night, little Catalina 
Gifford,” said Mr. Ellworthy. “ I will talk to you at my 
own house. I have no more time to give you just now.” 

“ But mother expects me home to-day.” 

“ That is impossible, unless indeed you wish to have 
nothing further to say to me. Give me your mother’s 
address, and I will send her a telegram, and tell her that 
you are staying with us for the night. — Now, go at once, 
Oliver. — Good-morning, Catalina; I shall see you by- 
and-by.” 


CATALINA. 


190 

The next moment, Catalina found herself outside the 
oak door, and the elderly clerk was looking down at her 
with smiling and kindly eyes. 

“ Well, miss, you are a plucky little lady,’' he said ; 
I don’t doubt but you have won your way whatever it 
may happen to be. Now, come straight down-stairs 
with me.” 

“ Do you think my uncle is very angry ?” asked Cata- 
lina. 

” Angry ?” said the man ; “ angry when he asks you to 
stay at his house ? That ain’t his way of showing anger. 
Just wait here a minute, miss” — he opened the door of 
the small room into which he had shown Catalina before — 
I’ll have a hansom here in a twinkling.” 

The clerk bustled away, and soon afterwards Cata- 
lina found herself driving quickly through the crowded 
Manchester streets in Mr. Oliver’s company. He was 
very kind to her, and she did not feel at all afraid of him ; 
her heart also felt unaccountably light. She had got 
over the worst of her business ; she had really braved 
the lion in his den. She now felt sufficiently calm to be 
able to listen to her companion’s remarks. 

” There, to our right, that’s our town-hall,” said Oliver ; 
we are wonderfully proud of it, I can tell you. Look 
up that street, please, miss ; do you notice how long and 
straight it is ? It is up there I live. I have a small house, 
old-fashioned but very comfortable. Mr. Ellworthy used 
to live in my house long ago. Ah, he is wonderful, he 
has prospered. It is but for him to touch a thing, and 
it is sure to succeed ; he is like King Midas — every single 
thing turns to gold under his spell.” 

“ Is my uncle very rich ?” asked Catalina. 


BEARDING THE OGRE. I9I 

‘‘ Rich !” exclaimed the clerk ; “ I believe you. He has 
thousands upon thousands of pounds put away, and his 
yearly income, why, it is almost past counting. He is a 
very good gentleman, too, and knows how to spend his 
money, no one can be more liberal than Ellworthy when 
he likes, but it often takes a powerful touch to make him 
unbend, for he is close, too, and hard, my word, as hard 
as a tenpenny nail ; but go at him the right way, and he’s 
as good as good can be. A more upright or more hon- 
ourable gentleman could not be found in the length and 
breadth of Manchester, and that is saying a good deal. 
He gives a power away in charity, too ; his name heads 
most of our big charitable lists. Why, he has just built 
a whole wing to the big hospital ; you can see it there 
up at the top of the town, just over all those houses. 
Yes, Ellworthy is a right good man, one of the best in 
Manchester.” 

“ I am very glad,” answered Catalina. She had not 
time to say any more, for the cab drew up suddenly in 
front of an important-looking house, in the middle of a 
fine square. A girl of about Catalina’s age was stand- 
ing at one of the lower windows ; she was a red-haired 
girl, with large blue eyes and a frank, fair, beautiful face. 
She evidently found the occupants of the cab of immense 
interest; her little, eager face all lit up; she turned 
quickly, and the next moment was standing in the hall. 
Oliver went forward at once and began to explain some- 
thing to her. 

“ Come in. Miss Gifford,” he said ; “ this is your cousin. 
Miss Madeline Ellworthy. Is your mother in. Miss 
Madeline ?” he continued. 

“ No, Mr. Oliver,” replied the child ; “ mother has 


192 


CA TALINA. 


gone out for the day. Can I do anything ? Who did 
you say that little girl was ?” 

“Your cousin, Miss Catalina Gifford. ’Mr. Ellworthy 
asked me to bring her here, and he says she is going to 
stay for the night.” 

“ Gifford !” cried the little girl ; “ I don’t know any one 
of that name.” 

“ Miss Catalina Gifford, your cousin,” said Oliver, 
glancing at Catty as he spoke. “ She has just come 
from London, and Mr. Ellworthy says will you please 
make her comfortable. I was to see your mother, and 
give the message to her, but you will doubtless do just 
as well.” 

“ Of course I shall. How surprised I am ! How very 
queer it sounds ! my cousin, Catalina Gifford ; but, of 
course, I am very glad, very glad indeed.” The little 
girl’s face seemed to wake up, smiles began to dance all 
over it ; she skipped excitedly up to Catalina and took 
her hand. 

“ Good-bye, miss,” said Oliver, glancing at Catty as he 
spoke. 

“ Good-bye,” replied Catalina ; she ran up to the old 
clerk, and gave him her hand. “You have been very 
kind to me,” she said. 

“You’ll do now, miss, you’ll do fine,” he answered; 
he nodded to her almost affectionately, and the next 
moment left the house. 

“ I am very glad you have come,” repeated Madeline, 
“ but I have not the faintest idea who you are. Are you 
a Manchester girl ? How can you be my cousin ? How 
did father find out anything about you ?” 

“I am a London girl,” replied Catalina, “ and I am 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 1 93 

your cousin ; that is, if you are Uncle James Ellworthy’s 
daughter, for my name is Catalina Gifford.” 

” My cousin,” repeated Madeline. ” I did not know 
that I had any young relations. Have I really got 
cousins ? Are there many of you, or are you the only 
one ?” 

“ There are a good many of us. I mean there are 
three besides myself.” 

“ I am very glad indeed,” said Madeline, in a slow 
voice, in which a great deal of rapture was con- 
cealed. 

“ I have always longed beyond anything to have 
cousins, but mother was an only child, and I always 
thought, somehow, that father was, too. It makes things 
rather dull for me. Oh, of course, I have got friends — 
lots of them. I go to a big day-school, and most of the 
girls in my class are very friendly ; but a cousin — a real 
relation — that is a different thing. Are you sure of what 
you say, Catalina?” 

“Yes, I am quite sure; my mother is your father’s 
sister ; so, of course, I am your cousin.” 

“ Dear me, how very exciting. Come right upstairs, 
won’t you ? I don’t think I ever heard of anything 
quite so interesting before. I was going to have such a 
dull day. Come straight up to my room ; I will show 
you all my things.” 

As Madeline spoke, she took Catalina’s hand and 
squeezed it tightly. The two little girls were about 
the same height, and although totally different in ap- 
pearance, Madeline did not take a moment in estab- 
lishing a very pleasant sort of comradeship between 
them. 


I 


n 


17 


194 


CA TALINA. 


“ Come straight to my bedroom,” she repeated. ''You 
must be tired ; you must want to take off your outdoor 
things, and brush your hair. This is my room.” 

She flung open the door of a large, beautifully fur- 
nished room as she spoke. 

" Come in,” she said. " I hope you will like my pretty 
bedroom ; it was freshly furnished and decorated this 
spring.” 

It was certainly a beautiful room, arranged in perfect 
aesthetic style. All the furniture was of the palest shade 
of blue, something the colour of a robin’s egg ; the walls 
were papered in a lighter shade of the same tone ; the 
carpet was thick blue felt ; the bed-hangings were white, 
looped up with blue ribbons. Lovely photogravures 
from celebrated pictures hung on the walls. There was 
a large glass over-mantel, and another which reflected 
Catalina’s little figure from head to foot stood between 
the two windows. The outlook into the somewhat 
dismal square was gloomy enough, but the room itself 
was full of brightness and beauty. 

" Oh, what a lovely room !” cried Catalina, with en- 
thusiasm, " and what a splendid copy you have of Sir 
Noel Paton’s ' Faith and Reason.’ ” She went up to the 
engraving, and began to examine it eagerly. 

“ Yes, is not it a fine picture ?” replied Madeline ; 
" mother gave it to me on my last birthday. I am very 
fond of Art of all kinds. But now, Catalina, don’t waste 
your time looking at the picture ; I have got so much to 
say to you. You cannot imagine what it is to me to find 
a relation of my own age. Here, you can use my brush 
and comb for your hair ; what pretty fluffy sort of hair 
you have, and so dark. Would you not like to wash 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 1 95 

your hands ? Then come into my dressing-room ; there 
i's hot water laid on there.” 

Madeline bustled about; she fetched clean towels and 
turned on the hot- water tap. The arrangements in the 
little dressing-room were as perfect as those in the bed- 
room. Catalina felt the soothing influence of plenty of 
money pervading all her tired little frame. Suddenly 
she felt faint and terribly hungry. Would it occur to 
her new cousin (she certainly was all that was charming) 
to offer her a good meal ? Oh, how really starved she 
felt ; she began to think anxiously of beefsteaks and 
mutton-chops, and all the other substantial fare which 
she would dearly like to consume. Madeline, however, 
who had never known real hunger in the whole course 
of her pampered little life, had no idea of this. It 
did not occur to her as possible that any one could 
be hungry between meals, that any human being, at 
least in her own class of life, could live who did not 
lunch at the appointed hour. To be hungry, very 
hungry, between lunch-time and tea-time had never 
occurred in the most remote degree to her imagination. 

“ When you have washed your hands and tidied your 
hair, we will come downstairs,” she said. I have got a 
dear little sitting-room, half-schoolroom, half-boudoir, of 
my very own. I keep all my treasures there. I shall 
love to show them to you.” 

I am quite ready now,” answered Catty. 

“ But how pale you look,” said Madeline, scrutinising 
her up and down. I never saw any one exactly like 
you before. You have got such a clear skin, and yet it is 
so dark ; how very black and big your eyes are, too ; 
and your eyebrows, how they arch, and how dark they 


196 


CA TALINA. 


are; and then that dusky hair, how thickly it grows 
round your temples — I do like those little curls and rings 
and tendrils. Oh, Catalina, I feel quite inclined to fall in 
love with you. Are you really my very own cousin ?” 

“ Certainly I am,” answered Catalina. 

“ Then, I suppose we may kiss each other. I am fall- 
ing in love with you, Catalina. I like to love you.” 

“ And I like to love you,” said Catalina, suddenly. 
She was not demonstrative, as a rule. Now she put her 
arms round her cousin’s neck; they kissed each other 
quite solemnly. It seemed to Catalina as though they 
were making a compact. 

“That is right,” said Madeline; she laughed joyfully. 
“ I was never so glad before in the whole course of my 
life. Come right downstairs with me.” 

“ I wonder, cousin ” began Catalina. 

“ Yes, cousin,” answered Madeline. “ Oh, Catalina, 
how sweet it is to call you cousin, how delicious, how 
unexpected ! What a nice foreign sort of name you 
have got; how did you come by it and by your dark, 
beautiful face ?” 

“ But, cousin,” said Catalina again. 

“ Yes, dear, darling cousin, what is it you want to ask 
me?” 

“ May I have something to eat ? I am awfully 
hungry.” 

“You are, are you? Oh that is too good. What 
would you like ? Chocolates — I have got some beauties 
in this cupboard, a whole bottleful — or, pastry of any 
sort?” 

“ Oh, please, a plate of cold beef, or something else 
quite big and solid. I left London very early this morn- 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 1 97 

ing, and I have had nothing substantial to eat since six 
o’clock." 

Madeline opened her pretty blue eyes very wide now. 
For the first time in the whole of her experience she 
was conscious of a new sensation. She saw that pretty 
as Catalina was, her dress was made of a coarser ma- 
terial than anything she, Madeline, had ever worn, also 
that her boots were a little too thick for perfect beauty, 
and that the lace round the neck of her frock was of a 
cheap quality. Could it be possible that, in addition to 
having found an unexpected cousin, that cousin was also 
poor ? Then, indeed, Madeline’s cup of bliss would be 
full, for if there was one person she had always longed 
for more than another in the whole course of her little 
life, it was to have a very poor cousin on whom to con- 
fer favours. Madeline was a little lady every inch of 
her, and she could not possibly do or say anything 
offensive. She, therefore, looked hastily away from 
Catty’s poor frock, linked her cousin’s hand lovingly 
through her arm, and rushed downstairs with her to 
the dining-room. Here she rang the bell and gave 
imperious orders to the footman. The result of this 
was that, in an incredibly short space of time, Catalina 
was satisfying her ravenous appetite with cold chicken 
and ham, with aspic jelly and other dainties. 

The meal was finished at last, and the two girls went 
up to Madeline’s pretty sitting-room. Here the dominant 
colour was a pale shade of rose, the blinds were rose- 
coloured silk, the curtains Liberty silk of the same shade 
and texture. Madeline threw herself back in a very 
snug chair, invited Catalina to make herself quite at 
home, and then began eagerly to question her. 

17* 


198 


CATALINA. 


“ Now I am full of curiosity,” she said, and you really 
must gratify me. What put it into your head to come 
to us ?” 

Catalina looked at her very soberly ; she did not reply 
at all for a minute, then she said : 

” I think I would rather not tell you, Madeline.” 

“ But why not ? I think that is unkind of you. Do 
you know that you whet my curiosity almost beyond 
bounds ? Please, do tell me. Well, if you won’t, at 
least let me know how it is that you have grown to your 
present age and I have grown to mine, and yet we have 
never heard of each other until to-day ? Please, do tell 
me the reason.” 

“ Won’t you ask your father when he comes back, 
Madeline ?” 

“How tiresome you are. Oh no, you are not; you 
are perfectly sweet. But do let me go on questioning ; 
perhaps you will be able to answer one or two of my 
inquiries. You really and truly, Catalina Gifford, live 
just four hours by rail from here?” 

“Yes, Madeline.” 

“ And yet I have never, never in the whole course of 
my existence, heard your name.” 

“ That is not my fault,” answered Catalina. 

“ Did you hear my name before to-day.” 

“ No.” 

“ Well, it is the queerest, most interesting, remarkable 
thing I ever heard of in my life. You might just as well 
have come all the way from New Zealand. Why, I go to 
London two or three times a year. You and I have been 
close together ; we have been almost breathing the same 
air. Well, dear little cousin, I am truly glad that you 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 


199 


exist. I am truly glad that you have come to see me at 
last. Do you mind very much if I kiss you over again ?” 

“ It is delightful to kiss you,” answered Catalina. 

“ I shall love you as long as I live,” answered Made- 
line. ” I hope I shall know the other cousins soon, and 
my aunt, my father’s sister ; but I wish to say now that 
I shall never love any of them as I love you, for you are 
the first young relation who has ever come into my life. 
Of course I have got father and mother, and there is 
Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Tabitha; but Uncle Jonathan 
is an old bachelor, and Aunt Tabby is an old maid, and 
nothing young of my very own has ever come near me. 
You are all my own. Catty. Catty, do promise that you 
will never love any cousin as you love me.” 

” I love you already. Cousin Madeline ; you are de- 
lightful, you are very kind to me.” 

” Now, won’t you tell me how you came ? You didn’t 
drop from the clouds, you know.” 

“ I got into the train this morning ; the train brought 
me to Manchester.” 

“ You got in the train at London?” 

“ Why, of course.” 

‘ And what did you do when you got to Manchester ?” 

“ I took a hansom and drove to your father’s office.” 

“ Well, now, that was very plucky, I might almost say 
it was a foolhardy thing to do, for father hates any of 
his relations coming to his office. Mother would almost 
rather die than disturb him at the great firm of Ellworthy 
& Co., and yet you, the little unknown cousin, absolutely 
went there ?” 

Yes.” 

“ Wasn’t he very much surprised, very angry ?” 


200 


CATALINA. 


I am sure he was surprised, Madeline ; but he didn’t 
say that he was angry.” 

What did he say ? Do, do, do tell me.” 

He looked me up and down and asked one or two 
questions, then he offered me a chair, and I told him 
what I had come for.” 

Ah, now, that is the point of points. What did you 
come for ?” 

“ Madeline, I told your father. I think perhaps I had 
better not say any more.” 

‘‘I see,” answered Madeline, you won’t be drawn; 
well, I will get it out of father. But, pray, go on now ; 
tell me the rest of the interview. After father had 
offered you a chair, what happened next ?” 

‘‘ He rang a bell and asked his clerk, Mr. Oliver, to 
take me here. I heard him tell Mr. Oliver that he was 
to explain all about me to your mother. He said I was 
to spend a night in this house, Madeline. He promised 
to send mother a telegram, for she of course expects me 
home this evening.” 

“ She must be a very funny sort of a woman to do 
that. Much chance you have of going home for a long 
time.” 

Madeline, I must go back to-morrow. I am wanted 
very badly at home.” 

You, darling; how sweetly you say that Oh, Cata- 
lina, I love you so ! Do let us draw our chairs closer 
together, I have so much to say to you. I want to tell 
you all about my past life, and, of course, I want you in 
your turn to tell me all about yours. It is cosy beyond 
words to have a cousin of one’s very own. Don’t you 
like that dear little chair you are sitting in ? Father 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 


201 


bought it for me last week. There is nothing father 
would not give me.” 

“ He is very rich, I suppose ?” said Catalina. 

‘‘ Rich, yes, tiresomely so. We have never known in 
all our lives what to do with half the money we possess. 
It gives mother and me quite a sense of ennui. When 
father asks either of us what we want we are dreadfully 
puzzled what to tell him. I am sure mother has got 
every single thing that the heart of woman could desire, 
and so have I — pets of all kinds, two dear little Shetland 
ponies and the sweetest little carriage you can imagine. 
I will drive you out to-morrow morning, and then you’ll 
know something more about it. I can drive my ponies 
beautifully. Then I have a splendid horse, Apollo I call 
him; such a beauty; and I am having riding lessons. 
Of course it goes without saying that I have books, toys, 
music, friends ; but now at long last, the dearest posses- 
sion of all has come to me — I have a real live cousin. 
Oh, the happiness of to-day ! Catalina, you must come 
and live with me ; you really must.” 

“ Thank you, Madeline, but I could not do that. I 
am wanted at home.” 

“ I am not a bit surprised. I should think any house 
would want the sort of girl you are ; but they must not 
be greedy at your home, for I am going to share you 
from this day out. Please don’t frown, Catalina, it spoils 
your pretty face. We need not discuss that point just 
at present, need we? But, pray, tell me about your 
home ; what sort of girls are your sisters ?” 

“ They are pretty girls ; one I think is a little like you.” 

“ Which ? This is charming. What is the name of 
the girl who is like me ?” 


202 


CA TALINA. 


“ Rose.” 

A sweet name. Has she got my carroty locks ?” 

“ Her hair is fair, not red.” 

“ I hate red hair. I wish I hadn’t got it. I call my 
red hair my cross ; we all must have some cross, must 
we not ?” 

“ Yes, but hair like yours is not a cross, Madeline. 
Why, it is beautiful ; it is like the old pictures. I should 
like you to take it down some day and fluff it round 
your face. Oh, I should like some day to paint you 
with that beautiful red hair round your face.” 

“ But most people think it ugly,” said Madeline. 

“ No artist could think it ugly. Why, it is superb ; 
so thick and fine, and such a glorious colour.” 

“Hear, hear!” cried Madeline. “You’ll make me 
conceited if you go on any longer, dear little coz.” 

“ I only tell you the truth,” answered Catalina. 

“ You talk as if you loved Art.” 

“ Well, so I do. I hope to be an artist some day.” 

“Do you really. Now begin at once; tell me all 
about that.” 

Madeline nestled a little closer to her companion, and 
then Catty began to talk. She had been drawn to 
Madeline before ; but in the course of this conversation 
her whole heart opened out to her; for Madeline also 
loved Art, and had studied it for some years with a 
certain measure of success. She was a member of the 
excellent and celebrated Art school of Manchester. She 
now brought out her drawings and sketches, and Catty 
and she examined them together. 

They were in the midst of this fascinating employ- 
ment when the footman threw open the door and an- 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 203 

nounced that visitors were in the drawing-room — Mrs. 
and Miss Trevelyan and Miss Rhoda Stanford. 

“ Rhoda Stanford !” cried Catalina. She coloured 
and looked excited. 

“ Do you know her?” asked Madeline. 

“ I know a girl of that name. I wonder if it can be 
the same.” 

” It probably is, for I remember Mina Trevelyan’s 
cousin is at some School of Art in London, But what 
a nuisance that they should have arrived just now. 
— James, why did not you tell them that mother was 
out?” 

“ I did. Miss Madeline ; but they asked immediately 
for you.” 

“ Oh, dear ! Well, I suppose we cannot help our- 
selves. — Bring tea into the drawing-room at once, James. 
— Come along, Catty ; you will help me to entertain.” 

When the girls entered the drawing-room, Mrs. 
Trevelyan, a high-bred, intellectual-looking woman of 
about forty years of age, came eagerly forward. 

“ How do you do, my dear ?” she said, kissing Made- 
line as she spoke. “ Mina and I were both anxious to 
see you for a moment. We want you to come to tea 
with us to-morrow night. I did not know that you had 
a visitor with you, my love.” 

“ Yes, but I have,” said Madeline. “ And such a 
delightful visitor, my own cousin ; her name is Catalina 
Gifford ; she came from London to-day. I am awfully 
excited about her.” 

“ How do you do, dear?” said Mrs. Trevelyan. She 
gave Catty a keen, somewhat inquisitive glance as she 
spoke. It did not take her an instant to discover that 


204 


CATALINA. 


the little girl’s frock was shabby, and her boots none of 
the best ; but then her eyes rested on the charming face 
with pleased admiration. Mina Xrevelyan, who stood 
near, also noticed the shabby dress and the beautiful 
face, and wished with an impatient sigh that she was 
half as pretty. 

“ Dear Catalina, who would have expected to see you 
here ?” said Rhoda’s voice at that moment. 

“ I thought it must be you, Rhoda,” said Catalina, 
holding out her hand. Rhoda took it with an air of 
condescension. 

“ Wonders never cease,” she remarked. “ I had not 
the slightest idea,” she added, lowering her voice, “ that 
you were related to my dear friends, the Ellworthys.” 

“ Oh, then you are Catalina’s Rhoda Stanford,” cried 
Madeline. “ What an extraordinary and wonderful day. 
You would like to talk to Rhoda, would you not, Catty ?” 

Catalina did not reply. Rhoda pulled her down to 
seat herself near her. 

I have lots to say to you,” she began, in an eager 
voice. “ But first of all, do tell me, are you related to 
the Ellworthys ? If you are, how is it you never men- 
tioned it ?” 

“ Mr. Ellworthy is my uncle,” replied Catalina. “ I 
had no reason to mention the relationship,” she added. 

“ Oh, dear,” replied Rhoda, tossing her head slightly. 

If the Ellworthys were my relations (did you say that 
Mr. Ellworthy is your uncle — well, if they belonged 
to me — people so rich and so, so” — she glanced at Mad- 
eline as she spoke — “ Pd have spoken about it ; but you 
always were different from any one else. Catty.” 

Catalina frowned. She could not bear to hear herself 


BEARDING THE OGRE, 


205 


called Catty by Rhoda ; her dislike to this officious and 
pretentious-mannered girl increased moment by mo- 
ment. 

Meanwhile Rhoda was, as she expressed it afterwards, 
taking Catalina’s measure. She did not fail to notice the 
shabby frock and the thickly-made boots. But when 
she glanced at the beautiful and piquant face the old 
envious longing stirred in her heart. 

“ If only I were like her,” she reflected, “ I declare I’d 
be satisfied to be poor. If I had her face and her talent 
I could make something of my life. Things are unfairly 

divided. Yes, I hate her for what she has got ; but ” 

Here a memory came back to Rhoda ; she smiled in- 
wardly. 

“ I am paying her out, and that is a comfort,” she mut- 
tered to herself. Aloud she said : “ I am surprised to see 
you. Of course I have known the Ellworthys for years. 
The Trevelyans are my cousins. Mrs. Treveleyan is my 
aunt, and I generally spend a part of my holidays with 
them. I am leaving to-morrow, however, as I ^m going 
to join my own family at Scarborough. Did you really 
say that Mr. Ellworthy is your uncle ?” 

“ Yes, Rhoda. You seem to find it very difficult to 
believe what I tell you. My mother is Mr. Ellworthy’s 
sister.” 

“You amaze me. I always did think; but never 
mind. Now that you are here, I am glad that I have 
met you. It may make a difference next term ; any rela- 
tions of the Ellworthy’s are worth cultivating. By the 
way, when you are talking to Madeline, if you mention 
my name, don’t, I beg of you, give your real opinion with 
regard to my artistic powers.” 

18 


206 


CA TALINA. 


'' I am not likely to,” answered Catalina. “ But even 
if I did, what would it matter ?” 

“ It would not matter anything ; but I am somewhat 
inclined to pose as an artist when with the Trevelyans. 
The mere fact of my belonging to the Randall School 
impresses them, and I like to impress people whether 
correctly or otherwise. You will oblige me, therefore, 
by not giving your candid opinion of my powers to your 
cousin.” 

“ I will say nothing ; I will not even mention your 
name.” 

“Thank you — that is kind. Now, don’t you think 
Madeline charming?” 

“ Yes,” answered Catty. She hated discussing her 
cousin with Rhoda ; but Rhoda would not allow her to 
escape. She raised her voice on purpose, hoping that 
the other ladies might hear Catalina’s somewhat unwill- 
ing answers. 

“ I am glad you were able to leave home,” she said, 
presently*- “ Your father must be much better.” 

“ He is, thank you.” 

“ It is true that he was dangerously ill, is it not ?” 

“ Yes ; but he is better now.” 

“ Is he likely to get quite well again ?” 

“ I hope so.” 

“ Well, he is a wonderful man,” said Rhoda, in an im- 
pressive voice. “ I have heard a good deal about Pro- 
fessor Gifford from one or two people lately.” 

“ Professor Gifford,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, at that mo- 
ment. She rose from her chair and took another 
by Catalina’s side. “ Professor Gifford,” she repeated. 
“ Did Madeline say, my dear, that your name was Gifford ?” 


BEARDING THE OGRE. 


207 


“ Yes,” answered Catty. 

And you live in London ?” 

” Yes.” 

“ Catty arrived here by the 11.55 train,” burst from 
Madeline’s lips. “She might just as well have come 
from the clouds, so astonished was I, and so unexpected 
was her arrival.” 

“ Are you really Professor Gifford’s daughter ?” asked 
Mrs. Trevelyan. 

“ Yes,” answered Catty. 

“ Then, my dear child, I am delighted to see you. 
Once I had the great privilege of hearing Professor Gif- 
ford lecture. I shall never forget what he said, nor how 
he said it.” 

Catalina felt the tears rising to her eyes. She lowered 
her eyelashes ; a great wave of love and longing for her 
father swept over her heart. 

“Did I hear you tell Rhoda that the Professor has 
been ill ?” continued Mrs. Trevelyan. 

“ He has been very ill, Mrs. Trevelyan.” 

“ Overdoing it, of course ; those clever men always 
break down in that sort of fashion. Once, years ago, I 
heard him lecture ; his subject was the dawn of art in 
ancient Greece. I remember how he looked and what 
he said. That old, forgotten subject seemed to live and 
palpitate with the life of our own century when he lec- 
tured on it. You are a lucky girl to have such a father.” 

“ Indeed, I know that well,” said Catalina. 

“ I am glad you appreciate him, and I am quite sure 
he appreciates you. It is nice to meet you. I must see 
more of you. You must come to-morrow with Made- 
Jine to visit us. Madeline, dear, that could be easily 


208 


CA TALINA. 


arranged, could it not ?' I should like to show your 
cousin some of the treasures I picked up when I was last 
in Greece. She would tell the Professor all about them. 
I am quite sure he would be interested in some of my 
relics.’’ 

“ We could go to-morrow, Catty, could we not ?” said 
Madeline. 

I must go home to-morrow,” answered Catalina. 

” Oh, that is nonsense. I am not going to allow you 
to stir. — Yes, Mrs. Trevelyan, we will come to-morrow, 
or, at least, mother will send you word in the morning. 
— Now, Catty, notwithstanding the colour in your cheeks, 
and the protest on your lips, you are not going to get 
away from your own cousin just when she has found 
you.” 

” I shall take no excuse,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, smiling, 
and rising as she spoke. ‘‘ Now, good-bye, my dear.” 
She drew Catty towards her as she spoke and kissed 
her again. 

I am proud to know your father’s daughter,” she 
said. 

As soon as ever the ladies went, Madeline rushed up 
to Catalina, and threw her arms round her neck. 

“ I have not only found a cousin,” she cried, but in 
her own way she is a sort of celebrity. I mean, of 
course, Catalina, that you are the daughter of one. Oh, 
how lucky you are, and how I envy you.” 

Lucky !” said Catalina ; “ if only you knew, Made- 
line.” 

“ Well, of course you are lucky. Is not your father a 
great man ?” 

“Yes,” said Catalina, “yes;” but she sighed as she 


m 


r 


THE DINNER DRESS. 209 

Spoke. Yes, she knew that her dear father was really 
great ; but if Madeline could see him now. If Made- 
line knew<on what a feeble thread his life hung. If 
Madelinef who lived in a palace of gold, could really 
look into that poor home, and see the want, and the 
struggle, the awful trials which come to grinding poverty. 

“ If there’s one thing I envy more than another,” con- 
tinued Madeline, skipping up to the open window, and 
looking out as she spoke, “ it is those girls whose fathers 
have distinguished themselves. Of course I am proud 
of my own dear, rich old dad. I love him, for he is one 
of the best men in the world; but I do just long that 
he should be celebrated in any other way than just 
being so tiresomely, so unromantically rich. Catty, I 
envy you.” 


^ CHAPTER XII. 

THE DINNER DRESS. 

The head of the great firm of Ellworthy & Co., Calico 
Printers, generally left his office about six o’clock in the 
evening. In summer he returned home in an open 
landau, in winter in a carefully-closed and padded 
brougham. His arrival, therefore, at Donville Square 
generally took place a few minutes after six. 

Catalina in the excitement of the afternoon had 
almost forgotten Mr. Ellworthy; but, as the time for 
his return drew near, Madeline glanced often at the 
clock. 

“ I am so happy,” she cried ; “ but even so, I cannot 

0 18* 


210 


CA TALINA. 


keep my curiosity under. Won’t I pounce on dad when 
he comes in. Hark ! what is that ? Yes, a carriage has 
stopped at the door ; it is father. Excuse me, Catty, I 
must rush to meet him. Yes, I hear his voice. I’ll be 
back in a moment.” 

Madeline flew from the room. She ran downstairs. 

“ There you are,” she cried, in her clear, high, childish 
voice. “ I am delighted to see you back.” 

“ Ha ! little woman, and how are you ?” called Mr. Ell- 
worthy back to her. 

“ Quite well, splendid. Oh, I say, what a delicious 
time you have given me. Thank you so much, father, 
for sending me my cousin. I had not the faintest idea 
that I possessed a cousin in the world.” 

“Hush, child, that will do for the present,” said Mr. 
Ellworthy. A frown came between his thick eyebrows. 
He pulled Madeline out of the hall into his own private 
sitting-room. A footman, who had come up to receive 
his master’s coat and hat, disappeared down one of the 
passages. 

“ Why did you say ‘ hush,’ father ?” asked Madeline. 

“ Because we do not want to talk of family matters 
before the servants.” 

“ Of course not ; how stupid of me to have forgotten. 
Well, do shut the door and let me ask all my ques- 
tions.” 

“ I cannot, little puss ; I am late.” 

“ But you must ; I insist : you are not really a bit late. 
Why, mother has not returned home yet.” 

“ Is not your mother at home ? Who took care of 
that little girl ?” 

“ Why, I, of course. Oh, father, she is such a dear, 


THE DINNER DRESS. 


2II 


quite the prettiest, most charming girl in the world, and 
my first cousin, too. Of course I took naturally to her 
and she took naturally to me, and even already we love 
each other dearly ; we have sworn to be friends all our 
lives.” 

“ I daresay,” interrupted Mr. Ellworthy. “ Now 
listen to me, Madeline : you know nothing whatever 
about this child. How do you know that I wish you to 
be friends ?” 

“ How do I know, father ?” Madeline backed a step 
or two away from her parent. “You must be joking,” 
she said, presently, with a laugh, which had, however, 
a note of fright in it; “you cannot wish to prevent 
me loving my cousin. Father, do say that you are 
joking.” 

“ I don’t want to hurt you in any way, my little girl,” 
said Ellworthy — he put his arms round Madeline and 
kissed her — “ but the fact is this, we Manchester folk 
don’t open our hearts quickly. I don’t wish you, Made- 
line, to rush into hasty friendships with anybody, whether 
cousin or not. You never heard of this girl until a few 
hours ago.” 

“ No, and that is the shame of it.” 

“ The shame of it ! Madeline, you forget yourself” 

“ I am sorry, father, but I must speak out. I ought to 
have heard of her.” 

“ We will say no more now,” said Mr. Ellworthy ; “ I 
must talk this matter over with your mother. As she 
has come, Catalina Gifford must, of course, stay the 
night.” 

“ Oh, she must stay a great deal longer than that ; I 
want her for quite a good visit. Dear father, do come 


212 


CA TALINA. 


Up to my boudoir, and have a look at her. You don’t 
know what a dear girl she really is.” 

“At any rate she is a plucky one,” said Mr. Ellwor- 
thy. “Yes, I will come up and see her if you like. 
And so your mother is not at home?” 

“ No, she went on a very long round of visits ; she said 
she would not be back until dinner-time.” 

“I wish she had come before,” muttered Mr. Ell- 

worthy. “ Had I known, I would not have sent ” 

His voice dropped, but Madeline heard the lowered 
words. A fear quite foreign to her, something she had 
never experienced before, crept into her heart. What 
could her father mean ; what was the strange mystery 
which prevented her ever having heard of Catalina until 
to-day, and which made her father unwilling to encourage 
her friendship for her cousin ? 

The calico merchant and his daughter entered the 
charming boudoir side by side. 

“ Here’s father,” said Madeline; “ I have been telling 
him, Catalina, what a delicious day you and I have 
had.” 

“Yes, you have been very kind to me,” said Catalina. 
She stood up and came a step or two forward. Mr. 
Ellworthy went up to her and held out his hand. 

“ Well, my dear,” he said, “ so you are here ! Now I 
am going to say something quite frank. I did not expect 
to see you in my house. I doubt if I ever anticipated 
that — pleasure. This morning I did not even know of 
your existence; but you are my niece, and you have 
plenty of pluck. I admire pluck in old and young alike. 
We won’t talk business to-night; but welcome, my dear, 
welcome to Donville Square.” 


THE DINNER DRESS. 


213 


“ Thank you,” answered Catalina. She said the words 
in a low voice ; her heart sank. Cordial as Mr. Ellworthy 
meant to be, there was a look about his mouth and an 
expression in his eyes which did not augur well for Cata- 
lina’s mission. 

“ Did you remember to telegraph to mother ?” she 
asked, presently, speaking with a timidity rather foreign 
to her nature. 

“ Yes, I sent her a wire ; I said I was keeping you for 
the night.” 

** Oh, there’s mother at last,” broke in Madeline, with 
a sort of shout. “ I’ll bring mother to you in one sec- 
ond, Catty.” 

She rushed out of the room, returning almost imme- 
diately with a tall lady, whose hair was of the same bril- 
liant hue as her little daughter’s ; her eyes had also the 
same kindly gleam in their blue depths. Madeline had 
evidently found time to make one or two hasty explana- 
tions, for Mrs. Ellworthy came straight up to Catalina, 
drew her to her side, and kissed her affectionately. 

“ Welcome, dear,” she said. “ I have j ust learned from 
Madeline that you have given her a happy day ; thank 
you for that — Maddie, love, have you given directions 
with regard to Catalina’s bedroom ?” 

I have not, mother; how very stupid of me,” said 
Madeline, reddening with vexation. 

“ Well, never mind, there is plenty of time ; she can 
sleep in the pink room, next to yours. I will give direc- 
tions myself, as I go upstairs. Sit down here by me, 
Catalina, and tell me about your journey. Madeline 
says that you left London this morning.” 

Catalina began to talk ; she found that she could not 


214 


CA TALINA. 


be afraid of Mrs. Ellworthy. Mr. Ellworthy walked to 
a distant part of the room ; he flung himself into an easy- 
chair, and took up one of Madeline’s childish books. 
He tried to amuse himself turning over the pages, but in 
spite of all his efforts he could not help hearing some of 
Catalina’s words. 

Yes, Mrs. Ellworthy, father has been very ill, indeed.” 

“ Not really in danger, my dear ?” 

” Oh, yes ; he has been at death’s door.” 

Mrs. Ellworthy questioned on, and Catalina replied. 

” What did you say you want to be yourself?” said 
the good lady, raising her voice by-and-by. 

“ An artist.” 

“ Really? You are fond of art?” 

“ I love it better than anything else in the world, ex- 
cept ” 

” Except what ?” 

” Father. I — I am very anxious to earn money as 
quickly as possible.” 

There was a force in Catalina’s slightest word, a direct- 
ness which showed that she had already found her life’s 
mission. This tone of quiet strength commended itself 
almost against his will to Mr. Ellworthy; he suddenly 
flung down the -book he was pretending to read, and 
walked out of the room. Just before he closed the door 
after him, Catalina’s clear, low voice was heard distinctly 
again,— 

” Perhaps mother looks rather old for her age ; she 
has had a great deal to try her. We are very poor, you 
know.” 

Ellworthy went downstairs, took up his hat, and went 
out. When he had last seen his sister, she was a buxom, 


THE DINNER DRESS. 


215 


rosy-faced, bonny-looking girl. Her eyes had been blue 
as Madeline’s were now ; her laughter had also been as 
light. Mrs. Gifford had been very pretty, when she was 
only gay, jubilant Rose Ellworthy ; in those days, James 
Ellworthy had been proud of his only sister. That laugh- 
ing, dimpled, charming face had often visited him in his 
dreams ; but seldom, for many a long year, in his waking 
moments. In the hurry and toil of hasting to be rich he 
had forgotten all about his sister and the glum-looking, 
somewhat musty Professor whom she had chosen to 
marry. Whenever he did think of her it was only with 
a growl at her folly. 

“ She made her bed, and she must lie on it,” was a 
very favourite saying of his, whenever he spoke of the 
only sister who had been his playmate long ago. As 
the years went on he gave her fewer and fewer thoughts ; 
he knew nothing of her trouble, nor of her present life. 
Rose had thrown over the man whom Ellworthy wanted 
her to marry ; she had married Professor Gifford against 
his sanction, the brother and sister had agreed never to 
meet, never to speak to each other again ; and Ellworthy 
found it not at all difficult to keep to his side of the bar- 
gain. Catalina’s arrival, therefore, had brought back the 
past in a very unpleasant, although effective manner. 

The rich merchant took a long walk, trying hard to 
forget some things which were not altogether agreeable. 
By-and-by he had to return home, for the dinner hour 
was approaching ; as he entered the house he muttered 
a solitary sentence of approval as far as Catalina was 
concerned. 

“ The child is not the least like Rose,” he said to him- 
self ; ” she has a great deal of go in her, she has twenty 


2i6 


CA TALINA. 


times her mother’s pluck. Rose was always a little cow- 
ard ; sometimes I thought her even afraid of a shadow. 
Yes, the girl is plucky, and I admire pluck. Now, whom 
does she take after ? I have but a dim remembrance of 
Professor Gifford. I know he was tall and thin, more 
like a dried mummy, in my opinion, than a living man ; 
the girl has a strange face, quite foreign, and, yes, plenty 
of pluck, and Madeline, little witch, has had the bad 
taste, no, the good taste I must admit, to fall in love with 
her.” Mr. Ellworthy sighed : a soft look came into his 
eyes as he thought of Madeline ; she was the idol of his 
heart, his one great living treasure. Had all his gold 
been put into one side of the scale and Madeline in the 
other, he knew which would weigh the heavier. 

Meanwhile, Madeline, quite restored to her usual hap- 
piness by her mother’s reception of Catalina, hurried her 
cousin up to her room, to dress for dinner. 

We are exactly one height,” said Madeline, “ so you 
can wear one of ipy dresses.” 

“ No,” replied Catalina, I shall really do very well as 
I am.” 

“ But you won’t. Catty ; we always dress for dinner 
here; you would really look quite remarkable in that 
thick, coarse — oh, I mean that hot frock. Now, I have 
more dresses than I know what to do with, and quite 
half of them are white. You won’t be too proud, Catty, 
to wear one of your own cousin’s pretty dresses to- 
night?” 

Catalina would certainly have preferred not to do so, 
but Madeline overruled her. 

“ I’ll call Cushion in, and she shall dress you,” she said. 

“ Who is Cushion ?” asked Catalina. 


THE DINNER DRESS. 2\J 

“ She is my maid, such a dear old thing. I have had 
her since I was quite a little child.” 

“ But I would much rather dress myself; that is, if I 
must.” 

“ Well, just as you wish ; but your room is not ready 
yet, so you must dress here with me. What fun it will 
be ! Cushion shall help us both.” 

A knock came at the door at this moment; Madeline 
called out ” Come in,” and a kind-faced, middle-aged 
woman entered the room. 

“This is my cousin, Cushion,” said Madeline; “she 
came from London unexpectedly, and has brought no 
luggage with her. I have got to lend her all she wants. 
Fortunately she is exactly my age, and I expect my things 
will fit her beautifully. Will you dress us both very 
nicely for dinner. Cushion ?” 

“ Of course. Miss Madeline. What dresses shall I get 
out?” 

“ Those two white chiffon frocks ; they are almost ex- 
actly alike. What splendid fun it will be if we are both 
in white ; the contrast in our appearance will be quite 
striking — I, the fair one, and Catalina the dark one. We 
won’t have any color at all. Please get out the silk 
stockings, and the box of white shoes. Now then, hurry. 
Cushion ; I had no idea it was so late.” 

Madeline flung open doors, and pulled open drawers, 
and Catalina, in spite of herself, could not help laughing 
and enjoying the fun ; the lovely wild rose color stole 
into her cheeks, and her eyes looked bigger, softer, 
brighter than ever. 

“ Was there ever such a darling,” murmured Madeline, 
as she looked at her cousin’s sweet face. “ How happy I 

19 


K 


2i8 


CATALINA. 


am to have found her. I never really knew what great, 
perfect happiness was until to-night.” 

As for Catalina, she felt very much as if she were part 
of a fairy story. For the time being she was quite car- 
ried out of herself. Here were all the elements of a real 
romance : the severe and somewhat dreaded uncle ; the 
charming aunt; the lovely, gracious, affectionate little 
cousin ; the house with its wealth and its beauty, its re- 
finement and charm ; and now, finally, the thought that 
she herself was to be converted into a fairy princess, 
equal in dress, equal in appearance to her beautiful little 
cousin. She laughed aloud, and said in a gay voice : 

“ At first I did not like the idea of wearing your clothes, 
but now I am glad ; it will be great fun for us both to be 
alike for once.” 

For once !” said Madeline. We shall often be alike 
— in our dress, I mean. Oh, do be quick. Cushion; 
there’s a darling.” 

Cushion, who exactly resembled her name, not having 
a hard spot anywhere about her, began to bustle about, 
and presently the two girls, in their graceful evening 
dress, stood before her as like, as Madeline expressed it, 
as two peas. Catty found herself surrounded by soft, 
flowing draperies which seemed to resemble clouds ; her 
small waist was encircled with a broad soft satin sash ; 
her hair was brushed out until every tendril, every curl, 
took exactly the most charming position. Madeline 
drew her quickly up to survey herself in the mirror which 
stood between the two windows. Catalina gave a quick 
glance at the neatly shod foot, at the pretty, dainty figure, 
at the laughing eyes, the peach-blossom face. She turned 
away, exclaiming with a laugh : 


THE DINNER DRESS. 


219 


Oh, Madeline, surely this is not you, cousin.” 

“ Yes, it is ; yes, it is,” answered Madeline. “ Oh, Catty, 
if you don’t bowl father over now, I don’t know who ever 
will. There’s the first bell ; let us hurry down.” 

Two or three friends were dining with the Ellworthys, 
and the girls sat side by side at one end of the long table. 
Madeline noticed that each person present glanced many 
times at Catalina, and once she was charmed to overhear 
a gentleman, whom Mr. Ellworthy thought a great deal 
of, asking him who that lovely, foreign-looking little 
girl was. 

“ She happens to be my niece ; her name is Gifford. 
Her father is a very learned man, thought no end of up 
in town,” said the merchant, somewhat pompously. 

You don’t mean to tell me that she is the daughter 
of the well-known Professor Gifford ?” 

** I believe so ; he is one of the professors of ancient 
languages at the Burlington Museum.” 

“Then, of course, he is the same. You must intro- 
duce me to that beautiful child after dinner.” 

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Catalina was 
introduced to the gentleman who knew her father’s name, 
and enjoyed her conversation with him very much. As 
the evening advanced, Mr. Ellworthy found it difficult to 
keep his eyes away from her; he was puzzled, distressed, 
moved ; one minute angry with himself for being so, the 
next full of schemes to help Catty and her family. As 
to the little girl herself, she went to bed, tired out, to sleep 
soundly. In her sleep she dreamed dreams. Had she 
really won the fortress ? Was the lion tamed ? Was the 
victory hers ? Had she taken the heart of her obdurate 
old uncle? 


220 


CA TALINA. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. 

Breakfast was always at an early hour at Donville 
Square. Catalina was still sound asleep when Cushion 
bent over her to awaken her. 

“ It is past seven, miss,” she said, “ and we have 
breakfast to the minute at eight. I have just put 
your bath ready; and would you like me to help you 
to dress ?” 

“ No, thank you, Cushion,” answered Catty, springing 
out of bed, and the colour coming into her face. “ I am 
always accustomed to dressing myself; but I am very 
much obliged to you.” 

“ My dear, I should be real pleased to do anything for 
you,” said the old woman. “ I used to know your 
mother, Miss Gifford, when she was young, younger 
than you are now. Eh, but she was a bonny young 
lady, but not in your style, miss ; she took more after 
Miss Madeline. I am glad to see you in this house, 
Miss Gifford, and I do hope with all my heart that it is 
only the beginning of good times.” 

Cushion hurried away, and Catalina hastened to finish 
her toilet. She had no time now to think of being 
nervous ; she was aware that the moment for which she 
had really come to Manchester was close at hand. She 
must insist on an interview with her uncle. If he in- 


TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. 


221 


tended to go away to his office without speaking to her, 
the mission which had cost her mother so dear, which 
had wasted some of their last few precious shillings, would 
come to nought. 

“ Yes, I must do it, however hard it is,” thought the 
little girl. “ I must beg of him to grant me the favour 
of a few minutes of his time. I wonder if I can have 
courage. If I can ?” thought Catalina, suddenly pausing 
and clenching one of her hands — “ I wonder that I speak 
even to myself in this fashion. I must have courage. 
Father has to be thought of; there is no question of 
‘ can ’ in the matter.” 

Breakfast at the house in Donville Square was not 
only an early, it was also a hurried meal. Mr. Ellworthy 
was an extremely hard-working man. Not a single par- 
ticular with regard to his vast business would he ever 
allow to slip out of his own hands. He had many clerks 
to work under him in various departments, but he him- 
self held every thread. The morning, therefore, was the 
worst hour of the day to approach him on any matter 
outside his own affairs. It was his custom to take the 
foot of the table at breakfast, with the Manchester Courier 
folded neatly in front of his plate. While he bolted his 
food he devoured the newspaper ; and neither Mrs. Ell- 
worthy nor Madeline ever troubled him with questions 
at this important hour. 

When Catalina and Madeline ran downstairs this 
morning, Mr. Ellworthy glanced up from his paper and 
gave the children a careless nod. 

‘'You are a little late, girls,” said Mrs. Ellworthy. 
“ Sit near me, Catalina. I hope you had a good night 
and are not tired.” 


19' 


222 


CATAL/JVA. 


“ I had a splendid night,” answered Catalina, and I 
feel as fresh as possible this morning.” She looked at 
her uncle as she spoke. “ Good-morning, Uncle James,” 
she said. 

“ Good-morning, my dear,” he replied. He glanced 
up at his wife with a slight show of impatience. “ There’s 
bad news from the East,” he said; ‘‘we are probably in 
for a fresh war.” 

“ Oh dear, how dreadful,” sighed Mrs. Ellworthy. 
Catalina felt desperate ; something worse than war would 
take place in her home if she could not engage her uncle’s 
attention. 

“ Please, Uncle James, I am dreadfully sorry to disturb 
you,” she began. 

“ Very well, Catalina, then don’t disturb me,” he re- 
plied. “ Mary, will you give this little girl something to 
eat.” 

“ Here is your place, Catalina,” said Mrs. Ellworthy, 
a vexed tone in her voice. 

But Catalina, who had gone down the room to that 
part of the table where Mr. Ellworthy was sitting, held 
her ground. 

“ It is now or never,” she said to herself 

“I am very sorry. Uncle James,” she began again, 
“ but I must speak to you before you go to your office 
this morning.” 

“ Quite impossible,” was the reply. “ I am off in five 
minutes. Madeline, ring the bell. I have no time to 
talk to you at present, Catalina.” 

But Catalina did not stir. 

“ I shall have to go back to London before you return,” 
she continued. “ I came out this long way to see you 


TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. 


223 

on very important business. Will you not give me just 
three minutes of your time ?” 

To this passionate appeal, for the child’s voice had 
assumed a deep note of tragedy, Mr. Ellworthy made no 
reply whatever ; he pushed his empty cup towards his 
wife with a silent request for more coffee, and the little 
girl was forced to sit down by her cousin’s side. 

Madeline bent forward to whisper to her. 

“ Never mind,” she said, we never worry father at 
this hour; he will see you when he comes back to- 
night.” 

“ But I must go home to-day, whatever happens,” an- 
swered Catalina. 

“ Oh, come, come, my dear, that is not to be thought 
of for a moment,” said Mrs. Ellworthy. “ Madeline and 
I have been making delightful plans. We intend to 
telegraph to your mother to ask her to pack up some of 
your clothes, and to send them here by the next train. 
You must stay for at least a week; you have done 
Madeline no end of good already.” 

“ An excellent plan, Mary,” said Mr. Ellworthy, speak- 
ing for the first time. He flung down his paper and rose 
to his feet. “ I am a busy man, Catalina,” he said. “ I 
by no means eat the bread of idleness. Little girls and 
their little affairs cannot be attended to at this hour in 
the morning. Pray, accept my wife’s invitation, and I 
daresay I may have time to listen to you some evening, 
say Sunday evening. I have always leisure on Sunday. 
You will stay with us for a week, and I can have a chat 
with you for as long as you like on Sunday.” 

“ I know you mean it kindly,” said Catalina. “ Oh, yes, 
I know you do ; but I cannot stay.” In a moment she 


224 


CATALINA. 


had lost her fear. She sprang from her seat and ap- 
proached her uncle, with her black eyes flashing. 

“ You talk, Uncle James,” she said, “ of your affairs 
being very important, and I know of course they are ; but 
you don’t think at all about me. You fancy because I 
am only a little girl that I have come here all the way 
from London by myself to force myself upon you, to push 
my way into your house, just to speak on a little matter. 
You are mistaken; it is not a little matter. It means 
life or death. Oh, if you will not listen to me this morn- 
ing, I don’t know what I shall do !” 

Here she burst into a flood of tears ; her heart was 
shaken to its very depths. The terrible fear that all was 
lost swept over her. Her extraordinary and unexpected 
speech made a profound sensation in the room. Neither 
Mrs. Ellworthy nor Madeline uttered a word ; but Mr. 
Ellworthy gave vent to an impatient sigh. 

‘^You are a queer child,” he said. “Come with me 
into my study. As you ask for three minutes you shall 
have them.” 

He took Catalina’s hand as he spoke, and led her 
quickly from the room. A moment later she found her- 
self facing him in a large, luxuriously furnished study 
at the opposite side of the hall. 

“ Now, child, speak, and be quick about it,” he 
said. 

“ I want you to help us. Uncle James,” said Catalina. 
“ We are in dreadful trouble at home. Father has 
broken down from hard work ; he has been very ill, at 
death’s door. He is better now, and if he has fair play, 
and just a little, a very little of the money which you 
all think so little of ” 


TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. 225 

“ Indeed you are much mistaken, miss ; think little of 
money ! That I don’t,” said Mr. Ellworthy. 

** Well, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you do know- 
how to spend it. Oh, I must hurry and tell you every- 
thing ; you can but refuse me. Father has been ordered 
a year’s rest, and he is to leave town immediately. 
Mother has not got money enough to take him away, 
and she is also in debt. If no one will help us we shall 
all be ruined, and father will die.” 

“ So that is it, is it ?” said Mr. Ellworthy. I might 
have guessed as much.” 

“ Yes, that is it. Are you going to help us ?” 

You are an extraordinary child. How dare you ask 
me that sort of question ?” 

“ Because it is the only question I can ask you. We 
have no one else to apply to, and you are mother’s own 
brother. Mother did not want me to come, but I 
thought I would, for it is the very, very last chance.’^ 

“ And you did this entirely of your own accord ?” 

“ Entirely. They none of them wished me to 
come.” 

Dear, dear — h’m. Queer — child, very,” muttered 
Mr. Ellworthy under his breath. “ Can’t get rid' of her, 
try as I will. She has got force and character — pluck, 
heaps of it.” He walked to the window and looked 
impatiently out. His carriage with his prancing horses 
was waiting for him. The horses pawed the ground 
with impatience equal to their master’s. He turned his 
back to the window and came back again to Catalina. 

“ There, child,” he said, “ I see you won’t be put off. 
I have got to listen to you, and I can’t hear your story 
all in a minute.” He went to the bell and rang it. 

P 


226 


CA TALINA. 


When the servant appeared, an extraordinary message 
was given : 

Tell Parkins to drive three times round the Square, 
and then to come back,” said the master of the house. 
“ Give the message, and shut the door after you.” 

The man withdrew in amazement. No one in the 
whole of the Ellworthy household had ever seen the 
calico merchant late for his appointments before. 

” Now, Catalina, tell me all your story as quickly as 
possible,” said her uncle, sitting down in an arm-chair, 
and motioning to her to seat herself on a neighbouring 
sofa. “ What ailed your father when he was so ill ?” 

“ The doctor called it an attack of apoplexy.” 

“Apoplexy. That’s the sort of thing that people 
don’t get over.” 

“ Well, father has. He is nearly well again.” 

“ But he is not quite well ?” 

“ No, not quite. He wants change and rest.” 

“ How long is it since he had this attack?” 

“ A couple of months ago.” 

“Apoplexy scarcely ever leaves a man the same as he 
was before. It is about the grimmest foe that attacks us 
middle-aged folk. Well, child, and there’s no money to 
give him this necessary rest ?” 

“ No. He earns a thousand a year in his profession ; 
but he must pay some one to take his place ; and mother 
was never, never a really good manager. And, oh, I 
don’t think she was a bit to blame, for things are expen- 
sive ; but she owes money. There’s very little money left 
in the bank.” 

“Well, to be sure, that’s bad,” said Mr. Ellworthy. 
“ To whom does she owe the money ?” 


TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. 22 / 

To the tradespeople, Uncle James ; and tradespeople 
are so unpleasant when you never pay them.” 

“ Of course they are. How do you think they are to 
live if they are not paid, monkey ?” 

There was a twinkle now in Mr. Ellworthy’s dark 
eyes, and the dawning of a smile round his grim mouth. 
Catalina felt all of a sudden as if a ray of sunshine had 
entered the room. 

“ The day before yesterday,” She continued, “ my sis- 
ter went to the bank to draw some of mother’s money, 
just enough to give two of the tradespeople a little each 
and to get me my ticket to come to you. Afterwards 
there were only fifteen pounds left.” 

“ Bless my soul !” 

“ And that is all we have got in the world,” concluded 
Catalina. She did not feel nervous any longer ; she had 
told her whole story. The matter now rested with her 
uncle James. She felt somehow that, knowing all, he 
would not fail her. 

“ How much does your mother owe, little girl ?” said 
the merchant, after a pause. 

“ Something between two and three hundred pounds. 
Oh, I know it’s an awful lot.” 

Come, it might have been worse,” said Mr. Ell- 
worthy. Give me your hand, child ; you are a plucky 
girl ; and if I were lying like your Professor I should 
think none the worse of Madeline if she did for me 
what you have just done. I never despise pluck in any 
one, and so — and so ” 

” You will help us, uncle. You will be so brave and 
good. Oh, how I shall love you !” 

” My dear, I must do something for you ; you are 


228 


CA TALINA. 


an extraordinary child; but upon my word I admire 
you. Stay where you are for a minute ; Fll be back soon.” 

The merchant left the room, and returned to the break- 
fast-room, where his wife and daughter were anxiously 
waiting for him. 

“ That girl is a plucky little piece,” he said, the mo- 
ment he entered. “ You can have her for a friend if you 
like, Madeline; she can never do you any harm, and 
may do you lots of good. She has told me her reason 
for making us an unexpected visit. Her news is painful, 
poor child, but I have made up my mind ; in fact, there 
is nothing whatever for it but for me to look into the 
matter myself. I shall go to the office now ; but if I am 
quick I may contrive to catch the three o’clock train to 
London.” 

“To London, James?” cried Mrs. Ellworthy; “are 
you going to see the Giffords ?” 

“ Fact, Mary ; I have promised Catalina to do some- 
thing, and the only way I can help is by investigating 
matters for myself.” 

“ I am very glad, James. I think you are doing your 
duty.” 

“ I shall take Catalina back with me,” said Mr. Ell- 
worthy. — “Now, Madeline, what in the world is the 
matter with you ? I am busy enough, and distracted 
enough, with all this additional worry, without your 
poking your little finger into the pie. What is up, puss ? 
what do you want to say ?” 

“ Nothing much, father,” said Madeline, in a demure 
voice, and yet with a great deal of spirit and determina- 
tion in her blue eyes ; “ I only just want to mention that 
when you go to town I am going, too.” 


TAKING THE BULL BY THE HORNS. 22g 

“ Nothing of the sort. I won’t have it.” 

Yes, but I am ; I am not going to lose sight of my 
new cousin in such a hurry as all that. You shall take 
me with you this afternoon.” 

“ Nonsense, Madeline ; you give me a great deal of 
extra worry when you talk in that silly way.” 

“ Father, it is not nonsense, and you know it. You 
have often taken me to London, and you shall again 
to-day. We can stay at the ‘ Metropole’ as usual. If 
you are going to help Catalina, and make her happy 
again, I mean to be with you when you do it. Now you 
must say Yes. I don’t care how anxious you are to get 
away to your work; you don’t stir until you say Yes.” 
Madeline flung her arms at this moment round her 
father’s neck, and held him tight. 

” Well, well, yes ; anything you please, my love,” he 
replied. “ What a fuss we are all in this morning ! I 
am sure I can scarcely tell whether I am on my head or 
my heels. I shall be late for all my appointments. Run 
back to Catalina, Maddie ; tell her, like a good girl, what 
we have arranged. If you insist on coming, why, you 
must; but I wish you would be more reasonable.” 

“ Oh, father, you’ll find me such a comfort to you in 
town.” 

“ Well, well, was there ever such a spoiled child ; I’ll 
call for you both in the brougham at half-past two, so be 
ready.” 


20 


230 


CATALINA. 


AFTER XIV. 

THE LITTLE VICTOR. 

Catalina much enjoyed her return journey to town. 
In the first place she travelled first-class, in the next 
Madeline sat by her side and chatted gaily to her almost 
the entire way ; in the third, Mr. Ell worthy, looking big 
and purposeful and strong and beneficent, faced her. 
She was not at all afraid of James Ellworthy, calico 
merchant, now; she looked upon him, in short, as a 
pillar of strength, as a rock on which to lean. There 
was scarcely a happier girl anywhere than Catalina 
during that hot ride to town, for she felt that she had 
won the victory. 

During the journey Mr. Ellworthy scarcely spoke a 
word. He had provided himself with the Thnes and 
several other papers. He was, to all appearance, ab- 
sorbed in the contents of his favourite literature, and 
seldom raised his head; but when he did do so, he gave 
, Catalina one or two keen glances, and something in his 
eyes so completely satisfied her, that she had some 
difficulty in refraining from jumping up to kiss him. 
But as she was sure that he would not like this, she tried 
to work off her excitement by talking as hard as she 
could to Madeline. 

At last the travellers reached London, and a few mo- 
ments later were driving in a cab as fast as possible to 
the old house in Mervyn Square. Catalina began now 
to have a queer, dreamlike sort of feeling. She was the 


THE LITTLE VICTOR. 


231 


deliverer ; she had effected her purpose, she had bearded 
the dragon, and was coming home again a victor. It 
was all so unlikely, and yet it was all so true. She felt 
herself, and yet unlike herself. 

When the cab at last drew up at the Giffords’ house, 
the little girl came back to everyday life with a start. It 
was Rose’s face at the window which helped her to get 
back her old feelings. 

“It is not a dream,” she said to herself; “I know 
now it is as true as possible.” She nodded brightly 
to Rose, who raised her brows in astonishment, waved 
her hand to Catty, and then vanished into the room. 

“ Something wonderful has happened, mother,” said 
Rose, turning and facing the occupants of the tea-table. 
“ Catalina has just come back in a cab, and there is an 
old gentleman with her, rather stout, and a pretty sort of 
girl, with a lot of red hair. Oh, and Catalina’s face is so 
flushed, and she looks so perfectly happy.” 

“ My dear,” said Mrs. Gifford, pressing her hand to 
her side, as was her fashion when anything excited her 
very much ; “ it must be your uncle ; but an old gentle- 
man and stout ? Do, Rose, get out of my way. Let 
me look for myself.” 

Meanwhile, Matilda had opened the hall door, and 
Mr. Ell worthy and the two girls had entered. 

“ You want a bit of paint here, eh ?” he said, glancing 
at Catty as he spoke. There was a certain nervousness 
in his tone. Catalina clutched his arm. 

“ Please, Uncle James, come up to the drawing-room,” 
she whispered. 

“ I hope to goodness. Catty, now that you have got 
home, you are not going to be stiff,” said Madeline, who 


232 


CATALINA. 


tripped gaily up the stairs behind her father and cousin. 
“ Remember, please, that I want to see everybody and at 
once. I hate to be told that I am just to come to the 
drawing-room.” 

“You need not stay here long,” said Catalina, flinging 
open the door as she spoke. 

” Oh, no, I don’t want to ; it does not look at all an 
inviting sort of room.” 

” Maddie, my dear, don’t be so silly and so rude,” said 
her father. 

” No, father, I don’t wish to be rude, but I want just 
to be at home. Catalina, how pale you look.” 

“ I feel pale ; I feel as if something would choke me 
here,” said Catty. She pressed her hand to her wildly- 
beating heart. ” I’ll be back in a moment. Uncle James. 
In no time, dear Maddie, you shall see the rest of the 
family and of the house. Now, I must go and tell 
mother.” 

She rushed downstairs. 

Mrs. Giflbrd had not dared to stir from the shabby, 
old parlour ; she was seated on the sofa, with a frightened 
look in her eyes. 

“ So you have come back,” she said, “ and who, who 
has gone upstairs ?” 

“Uncle James, mother — he is in the drawing-room, 
and our cousin Madeline.” 

“ My brother James ? But Rose saw him ; she said 
he was a stout, old man.” 

“ So he is, but he is your brother James all the same. 
Won’t you go to him at once ?” 

“ Who in the world is Madeline ?” asked Rose ; “ is she 
the girl with the red hair ?” 


THE LITTLE VIC TOE. 


233 


“ Yes, our very own cousin ; the dearest and prettiest 
girl in the world. You don’t know how nice she has 
been to me. Please, mother, won’t you go upstairs at 
once ? Uncle James has come on purpose to see you.” 

Well, Catalina, I think you are a witch,” said Mrs. 
Gifford ; “ so you really went to Manchester and saw my 
brother, and — you have brought him back here. Child, 
what am I to think ?” 

“ Think the best of all, mother, the very best. Oh, do 
go now ; don’t keep him waiting.” 

Mrs. Gifford left the room. 

“ Well, I never !” cried Agnes ; “ you certainly are a 
witch. Catty. Mother is quite right.” 

” Was the lion very fierce ?” asked Rose. 

“ No, no, he was delightful, splendid. I really do be- 
lieve Rose and Agnes that everything is all right. This 
morning I had courage to tell Uncle James the simple 
truth. Oh, I cannot recall all he said, but he was good, 
more than good. He finally arranged to come back here 
and to see mother. Maddie would come, too ; I have 
said already that she is the dearest girl in the world. 
Oh, to think that they are both in this house. But, oh, 
girls, I am so — so tired, and so dreadfully hungry. And 
oh, please, how is father?” 

“ Well, you are in a state of mind,” said Rose ; “ you 
look quite white, and your eyes almost wild.” 

“ I am so happy and distracted, and starving, and un- 
tidy ; but how is father. Rose ?” 

“ Better, I think.” 

Then do, please, be quick with tea, some one. I want 
Maddie and Uncle James to have some; and, oh, I am 
so hungry.” 


20* 


234 


CA 7ALINA. 


“ Poor Catty, I must not ask you another question,” 
said Agnes. 

She ran out of the room. Catalina threw herself down 
on a sofa, and tossed off her hat. 

“ Well, Catty, you ought to be happy, if you have done 
all you say you have done,” said Rose ; “ and to think 
what you have saved us from. You certainly are a 
plucky child. Mother has been in a dreadful state since 
you went away ; at times I thought she had almost lost 
her head. What do you think she did yesterday even- 
ing ? She went into father’s room and sat down by him, 
and burst into tears.” 

“ She did not frighten him, surely,” said Catalina, turn- 
ing pale. 

I don’t think so ; I don’t think anything would 
frighten a man like father. He asked her why she 
cried, and then she told him.” 

“ What did she say ? Were you in the room ?” 

“ Yes, of course ; how could I tell you if I were not? 
I was standing by the window. When father asked her 
why she cried, she said it was because there was no 
money, and the doctor had ordered him from home, and 
he must not work for a whole year, and he ” 

“ What did he say ?” asked Catalina. 

He was not the least bit put out ; I never did know 
such an unworldly man. He just kissed her ever so ten- 
derly, and told her not to fret, and said that he had not 
the slightest doubt but that something would be man- 
aged. Then she told him about the debts, but he did 
not even mind them ; he said again something would be 
managed. And when she asked him what, he said he 
could not quite say, but that he had no doubt a thought 


THE LITTLE VICTOR. 


235 


would come to him presently. A few minutes afterwards 
he dropped asleep, and when he awoke again he had evi- 
dently forgotten all about mother’s conversation.” 

At this moment, and before Catty could make any 
reply, light steps were heard running down the old 
stairs, the room door was opened, and a girl’s bright 
face peeped in. 

“ It was dull on the landing,” said Madeline. 

“ On the landing, Maddie ?” cried Catalina. 

“ Yes, of course. Where else? Do you think I could 
stay in the drawing-room when your mother was crying, 
and father had her in his arms ; and — and — oh, of course 
I fled from the room. It was so dull, however, that I 
thought I would find you. Is this another cousin ?” 

Madeline came up swiftly. She stood closely to Cat- 
alina, throwing her arms round her waist as she spoke. 
Then she held out her hand to Rose. 

“Are you another cousin?” she repeated. 

“ If your name is Madeline Ellworthy, of course I am 
your cousin,” replied Rose. 

“ I am very glad, indeed,” said Madeline. “ I think 
you are pretty, though you are not a bit like Catty ; but 
I like your face. May I kiss you, cousin ?” 

“ Of course you may.” 

Madeline performed this office with eagerness. 

“ I am so glad I poked you out. Catty,” she continued. 
“ It was precious dull on that stupid landing. What a 
dear, booky sort of room ! I must say I like the whole 
house awfully. It is not a bit like any other house I 
have seen.” 

“ It is a very shabby, ugly, poor sort of house,” said 
Rose, stoutly. 


236 


CA TALINA. 


“ Is it ?” answered Madeline ; “ then it is much more 
interesting to me than if it were a rich sort of house. 
You don’t know how tiresome too much money is ; at 
least, it is to me. Now, please, Catalina, where is Agnes? 
And where is your dear little brother, Teddy ; and Catty, 
darling Catty, when may I see the Professor ?” 

“ I don’t know. I have not seen him myself, yet,” 
answered Catty. “ Oh, here comes tea at last. I’ll just 
help myself to a cup, and fly up to father. After I have 
told him about you, perhaps he will see you, Madeline ; 
but I must tell him first.” 

” All right,” answered Madeline, who had thrown off 
her hat, and seemed perfectly at home. “ Rose will 
stay with me while you are away. Catty. Oh, I am fear- 
fully hungry. — I hope. Rose, you won’t mind my making 
a very good meal.” 

Catalina drank off a cup of tea, snatched a piece of 
bread and butter from the plate, and then left the room. 
Her heart was beating high ; happiness beamed in her 
dark eyes. She flung open the door of the Professor’s 
room, and ran eagerly in. 

Mr. Gifford was lying, looking exactly the same as she 
had seen him last, by the open window. He glanced up 
when Catalina entered. 

” Sit down near me, my dear child,” he said. I have 
missed you. I wanted you to go on with that book on 
evolution.” 

* I have been away, father.” 

Away ? Indeed. Where.” 

“ I have been on a quest, dear father.” 

‘‘ My love, a quest ; that sounds interesting. The 
quest of the Golden Fleece or the Holy Grail, which ?” 


THE LITTLE VICTOR. 


2Z7 


“ I think the Holy Grail,” answered Catalina. She 
lowered her head, dropped on her knees, and buried her 
bright, excited face against her father’s shoulder. 

He did not speak, but lay looking straight before him, 
in the utter calm which seemed always to pervade the 
atmosphere in which he lived. His manner soothed 
Catalina’s over-excitement inexplicably ; her heart ceased 
to beat so wildly. She was soon able to raise her face 
and look full at her father. 

It satisfies me to be with you again, father,” she 
said ; “ I have missed you more than words can say.” 

“You have missed me,” replied the Professor; “but I 
have been here, my darling.” 

“ Yes ; but I have not been here.” 

“ I noticed you were not in the room. Well, now that 
you have come back, you look happy and pleased. Is 
the scholarship won, Catalina ?” 

“ No. But I have got something better.” 

“ The crown of bay ?” 

“ Not yet. Something even better. Oh, father, I 
cannot speak of it. I can only just sit close to you and 
feel ” 

“What, child?” 

“ Thankful, too thankful for words.” 

Catty slipped her hand inside her father’s. He clasped 
it in his, and closed his eyes. The sun was just setting, 
and some of its last rays came in at the open window. 
Catalina looked right out into the very heart of the sun- 
set, and saw before her a beautiful picture. She saw her 
father in the midst of the country. She noticed the 
colour of health returning to his cheeks ; the look of 
health, energy, keen, fresh intellect beaming in his eyes. 


238 


CA TALINA. 


She saw him doing better work than he had ever done 
before, and she knew deep down in her heart that she 
was the happy cause of all this. Just because God had 
put brave thoughts and the courage of her own convic- 
tions into her heart these delightful things had happened. 
Yes, she certainly was a thankful girl to-night. It was 
to be doubted if ever in her future life she could know a 
moment of purer joy than the present one. The door 
of the room was suddenly opened, and Mrs. Gifford came 
in. Her face was flushed, and her eyes bore traces of 
recent tears. 

“John,” she cried; “John.” 

“ Yes, my love.” 

“You are there, Catty,” said Mrs. Gifford. “I have 
come to say something to your father.” 

“ Shall I go away, mother ?” 

“ No. You have the best right in all the world to 
stay; but for your courage where should I be now? 
John, I have wonderful news for you.” 

“I am glad to hear it, wife. You and Catty seem 
both of you in an extraordinary state of excitement ; but 
as it is happy excitement, it gives me pleasure.” 

“ But you really do want to hear my news ?” 

“ Of course. What is it ?” 

“ Was there ever such a man ?” cried Mrs. Gifford, 
clasping her hands and speaking even in this moment of 
joy with a certain irritation. “You would rejoice if a 
new rendering of the Egyptian hieroglyphics could be 
found or — or some other musty, useless, dead and gone 
knowledge were suddenly restored to mankind.” 

“ Don’t, Rose,” said Mr. Gifford, with a look of sudden 
pain. “ You talk in a profane manner.” 



You are there, Catty,” said Mrs. Gifford. “ I have come to 
say something to your father.” 



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THE LITTLE VICTOR. 239 

Well, I won’t ; I ought not to annoy you to-night. 
John, I am a free woman once again.” 

“ My dear Rose, a free woman. Were you ever a 
prisoner ?” 

“ I was tied hand and foot. John, I told you last 
night that I owed a lot of money.” 

“ Yes, my dear wife, and the news distressed me. I 
have been thinking the subject over at intervals. Of 
course those debts must be paid.” 

“You dear, stupid darling,” said Mrs. Gifford, now 
falling on her knees by her husband’s side. “ Did it 
ever occur to you how they were to be met ?” 

“ I confess, my love, I was not able to see a way out 
of the difficulty.” 

“ Well, think no more about them, John, for they are 
all to be paid off to-morrow, and I am free, free as 
woman ever was. Oh, I am both free and happy, for 
you are to go to the country; and I am to have suffi- 
cient money to enable us to live in comfort until you are 
strong enough to resume your work again.” 

“ This seems all very wonderful,” said the Professor, 
after a pause, “ and extremely like the action of a benefi- 
cent fairy. Who is our fairy. Rose ?” 

“This little girl, your daughter. She was just the 
bravest child in the world, and went and bearded the 
lion in his den.” 

“ My dear, how strange and confusing. You use such 
mixed metaphors — prisoners, chains, lions, dens, to say 
nothing of my fairy. I confess I cannot follow you. 
What marvellous feat has Catty accomplished ?” 

“ You know my rich brother in Manchester ?” 

“ James Ellworthy. Of course. I am given to under- 


240 


CA 7ALINA. 


stand that he has added gold to gold ; the canker of 
riches ! Yes, I remember the name, Rose. He and I 
were once not very friendly. Rose, in those days you 
were a very beautiful girl.” 

“ No, my love, my dear husband,” said Mrs. Gifford. 
She bent low and kissed the Professor’s emaciated hand. 
Catalina gave both her parents an earnest look. From 
her mother’s face a heavy mantle of years, care, and 
anxiety was suddenly lifted. Her father’s face had never 
looked more beautiful, more spiritual. He put one of 
his hands on his wife’s head. She bowed her face then 
until it rested on his breast. 

And I have done it,” thought the little girl. She 
hurried softly out of the room and closed the door be- 
hind her. 

” Mother must tell him in her own way,” murmured 
the child, with an insight and consideration above her 
years. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE WORTH OF GOLD. 

When a kind-hearted and rich man chooses to inter- 
fere in the affairs of a poor family, it is astonishing how 
very little inconvenience and what a vast amount of 
pleasure he gives himself He begins for the first time 
in his life to discover the real and true value of money. 
He begins to taste some of the happiness, which is the 
purest on earth, of being able to do substantial good, of 
being able to relieve the most intolerable form of distress. 


THE WORTH OF GOLD. 


241 


It is his happy lot to bring back life and hope to those 
who are hopeless. This was Mr. Ellworthy’s delightful 
task during his brief visit to London. He made all 
kinds of discoveries during that couple of days, and each 
discovery seemed to warm his heart more than the last. 
In the first place, he found out that his love for his sister 
Rose was not the dead and gone thing he had imagined 
it to be. All during the years when he had apparently 
forgotten her the old love was dormant, not dead. When 
last he had seen her she was a rosy, fresh, smooth-faced 
girl ; she was now old for her years, somewhat inclined 
to be stout, considerably inclined to be florid — in short, 
as unromantic-looking a woman as eye could behold. 
Nevertheless, James Ellworthy saw something of the old 
light in Rose Gifford’s face ; he had but to put a little 
imagination to the fore to call back the vision of the girl 
who had been his playmate long ago. When Mrs. Gif- 
ford cried and talked in the old voice, and said a good 
deal of the old somewhat purposeless things, he found 
his love for her getting stronger each moment, and when 
she at last was induced to reveal the magnitude of her 
debts, he pooh-poohed them in a delightful, cheerful, and 
never-may-care sort of manner, and assured her that a 
cheque on his bankers would cause the inconsiderate 
tradespeople to sing a very different tune. 

Early the following morning James Ellworthy and 
Professor Giffbrd met, and then it was amazing how the 
cloud which had prevented Mr. Ellworthy from seeing 
any virtue in Professor John Giffbrd completely vanished. 
He looked at him now from a different stand-point, and 
began to conceive a sincere respect for the man. That 
respect was quickly merged into not only pity but liking, 
L S' 21 


242 


CA TALINA. 


also into a sort of pride of possession which was very 
amusing, and was about the last thing Mr. Ellworthy 
ever contemplated. 

During the afternoon of that long and happy day, 
Madeline induced her father to take a walk with Catalina 
and herself During that walk, Mr. Ellworthy drew 
Catalina on to tell him all she knew about her father. 
No theme could be more delightful to the little girl — she 
was determined that Mr. Ellworthy’s eyes should be 
effectually opened, and for this purpose carried him 
straight away to the Burlington Museum. 

She was able while there to introduce him to two or 
three of the professors. A very musty-looking, but a 
very learned, professor happened to be in the hall where 
the Persian lectures were generally carried on. When 
he saw Catalina he came quickly forward and asked her 
about her father. His tone of respect, of interest, the 
way he paused, the look which came on his face when 
Catalina told him that the Professor would not be able 
to resume his work for a year, were by no means lost on 
Mr. Ellworthy. Catalina introduced her uncle, and Pro- 
fessor Farringdon bowed in that abstracted way which 
seems to be more or less the prerogative of all professors 
of the ancient languages. Mr. Ellworthy imagined that 
his name might have carried weight even in London, 
but it was more than evident that Professor Farringdon 
had never heard of the great calico merchant, the man 
to whom everybody bowed down in his native town. 
He scarcely glanced at him, and instantly resumed his 
conversation with Catalina about her father. 

“ A wonderful man,” he exclaimed. “ What a loss he 
will be even for the interim during which he must remain 


THE WORTH OF GOLD. 


243 


away from his duties. It will be almost impossible to 
fill his place — of course the Professorship will be gladly 
kept open for a year.” 

Presently he shook hands with the party, and said to 
Catalina that he would be .much honoured if her father 
could see him for a few minutes any day at any hour 
most convenient. 

“ That Professor of yours seems a remarkable man, 
Catalina,” said Mr. Ellworthy. 

” Of course,” replied Catalina, “ there is no one else 
like him in the world.” There was not a scrap of vanity 
in her voice, but there was a good deal of a tender sort 
of pride. Mr. Ellworthy became more and more im- 
pressed. In short, before he returned to 52 Mervyn 
Square he had acquired a vast respect for the Pro- 
fessor, and was proud of being connected with him. 
Certainly it was his bounden duty to keep such a man 
going for a year — a man who would be a public loss, 
who could not by any possible means he replaced, was 
certainly some one to arouse Mr. Ellworthy’s respect. 

Arrangements were quickly made for the entire family 
to leave the house in Mervyn Square within the following 
week. Mr. Ellworthy gave his sister carte-blanche to 
take a nice house in the country, and then made other 
arrangements which would enable her to finance the 
establishment in perfect comfort. 

” Say nothing, my dear Rose, say nothing,” he con- 
tinued, as he thrust a cheque for the first quarter’s rent, 
and a good deal over, into his sister’s hand. “ Remem- 
ber, I am your brother. I have neglected you shame- 
fully, but the only thing the best and the worst of us 
can do is to turn over a new leaf when we have discov- 


244 


CATALINA. 


ered our faults. That child of yours opened my eyes, 
and I am vastly obliged to her. The fact is, Rose, my 
dear, whatever I thought in the old days, I am now very 
proud of that Professor of yours ; I can tell you he’ll be 
a feather in my cap in Manchester. Of course I am 
very well known there, and thought no end of — they all 
worship money in my native town, my dear, and small 
blame to ’em, for money can do a good bit — but the 
wife, the best woman living, has had a hankering to get 
into another sort of society — a sort above and beyond 
the mere mercantile type. When once I tell her that 
we are closely connected with Professor Gifford, and let 
it be known, as I easily can, what sort of man he is, why 
my dear sister, the thing is done. So you see, for your 
comfort, that you give as much as you get. Now, Rose, 
there’s only one last thing to arrange — what is to become 
of Catalina?” 

Catalina,” said the mother ; I suppose she will come 
to the country with the rest of us.” 

‘‘ She will, of course, for a bit ; but you don’t want to 
have the career of a child of that sort ruined. She 
wishes to become an artist. Now, she cannot learn art 
in the heart of the country, can she. Rose ?” 

“ I suppose not.” 

Well, let me proceed. You know Madeline has 
taken the most enormous fancy to her.” 

What a dear little girl your Madeline is, James,” 
said his sister. 

“Yes, yes, the best child living — the most unselfish 
creature.” 

“ Any one can see that.” 

am heartily glad you admire her, Rose; but now 


THE WORTH OF GOLD. 


245 


to return to Catty. I have made certain plans for her 
too. You send her to me; I’ll talk them over with her 
by herself.” 

Mrs. Gifford left her brother seated in the ugly, shabby 
dining-room. When he found himself alone he rubbed 
his hands with satisfaction. 

“ A capital day’s work,” he muttered. “ I must con- 
clude matters, however, and quickly too; for if I am to 
attend to my own affairs, I have got to return to Man- 
chester by the night-train. Yes, it is a fine thing to be 
rich when all is said and done. I have lifted a burden 
from poor Rose’s shoulders, and given that gifted man. 
Professor Gifford, a chance of life. Ha, here you are, 
Catalina. Now, sit down by me ; I am going to ask you 
a straight question.” 

“ What is it, uncle ?” asked Catty. 

“ Take this -seat. I have a good deal to say to you.” 

“And I have something to say to you,” answered 
Catalina. “ I have been wondering in what words I 
could get you to understand ” 

“ To understand what, my dear?” 

“What I feel towards you, uncle — to get you to 
understand what a great,, wonderful thing you have 
done.” 

“ My dear, not another word. I know perfectly well 
what I have done, and I am too busy to listen to any 
thanks. Yes, yes, you are a good child, the best I have 
ever come across. My dear, I know what is in your 
heart; you need npt talk about it. My reward is the 
comfortable, healthy feeling my conscience has got. I 
assure you, yes, it is quite singing within me, and that’s 
an awfully nice feeling. Now, to talk about yourself.” 

21* 


246 


CA TALINA. 


“ Yes, uncle.” 

“ You want to go on with your Art, eh?” 

“ Of course.” 

” Now, what do you say, Catalina, to coming to live 
with Madeline in Manchester.” 

Catalina’s face went from red to white — her lips 
quivered ; she fixed her dark eyes full on her uncle. 

You would like it, eh ?” said Uncle James. 

” No.” 

Mr. Ell worthy looked disappointed. 

“ Uncle, you have given me credit for having courage, 
and I must have sufficient courage now. I must tell 
you the simple truth. I would like it for some things, 
for I really love Maddie, and of course I love you ; but 
I could not come to live with you. It would not be 
right, it would not be good for me. I am not meant to 
be rich, and if I stayed all my time in a great rich house 
like yours, it would not suit me ; it would be foreign to 
me. Uncle James. Then, for the next few months, I 
want to be with father, and afterwards ” 

“Well, that is what I am coming to. You must go 
on with your art some time, and how can you do it in 
the country ?” 

“ I certainly could not become an artist,” said Cata- 
lina. 

“Well, child, you ought to hear me out. There is a 
splendid School of Art in Manchester. If you lived 
with us, and gave your cousin pleasure, and your old 
uncle — yes, your old uncle, too, Catalina — you might 
study art under Professor Murchison, whose name, I 
assure you, my dear, is held in very high esteem in the 
Art world.” 


THE WORTH OF GOLD. 


247 


“ I could not do it, Uncle James.” 

” Then, what do you intend to do ? You know, child, 
you have got talent. If you are not rich you may have 
to earn your living. Is it right for you to hide your 
talent in a napkin ?” 

“ No, I will use my talent. If I could only win the 
scholarship, I might go on studying at the Randall 
School.” 

“ What is there about this Randall School which 
seems to interest you so much ?” 

“ It is a splendid place. Uncle James ; it is much the 
best Art School in London.” 

“ Well, London is a big place I should say the best 
school in London had a fair chance to be the best school 
in the world. You would rather go on studying at the 
Randall School, eh ?” 

“ Much rather.” 

“ But how can you manage that, puss, when your 
father lives in the country. The other side of Surrey is 
some distance from the Randall School, is it not ?” 

‘‘ It is.” 

Come, little girl, tell me exactly what you mean. 
Have you any chance of this scholarship ?” 

” I don’t know that I have much, but I must try for 
it. Professor Forde has offered a scholarship to the 
students who belong to the animal school. The girl who 
gets it has free tuition for three years. If I could only 
be the lucky girl, I have not the slightest doubt that at 
the end of three years I might be able to earn enough 
money for my future fees by selling pictures and little 
scraps for illustration and that sort of thing.” 

“ Now look here. Catty ; I commission the first three 


248 


CATALINA. 


pictures you think worth selling, and you are to put 
your own price on them.’’ 

“ Oh, thank you.” Smiles beamed all over Catty’s 
face now; she could scarely keep from clapping her 
hands. 

I never saw you look so childish before,” said Mr. 
Ellworthy. “ It is a relief to see any behaviour on your 
part which matches the ordinary girl of your age. But 
now I must damp your ardour — suppose you don’t get 
the scholarship ?” 

“ I have no chance of getting it at all during the next 
session.” 

“ Why is that ?” 

Partly on account of father’s illness. I was not able 
to conform to all the necessary rules.” 

“ Then, if you don’t come to live with us, you will 
have no art for at least a year ?” 

Catalina hung her head. 

“ I know,” she said, “ it seems hopeless.” 

No, it is not hopeless, little girl ; not while you 
have your benevolent uncle in a benevolent mood. You 
run upstairs this minute, and put on your hat, and we’ll 
go out together and have a talk about this.” 

“ What do you mean to do. Uncle James ?” 

Well, this. Suppose I were to give you the money 
for your art fees for the next session.” 

“ Oh, uncle, you don’t mean it. Oh, it seems quite 
too much to take, and perhaps, after all, mother could 
manage.” 

Look here, Catalina, I forbid you to worry your poor 
mother about this matter. I never in all my life saw a 
woman age so in the time — why, she is not forty yet. 


THE WORTH OF GOLD. 


249 


She was married when she was quite a child, and I de- 
clare she looks fifty if she looks a day. Once for all I 
forbid your mother to be worried.” 

“ Very well, Uncle James,” answered Catalina, in a 
submissive voice. 

I have taken you up, and I am not going to drop 
you. How much are these precious fees ?” 

“ Fifteen guineas a year.” 

“ Fifteen guineas a year ! A mere nothing. Con- 
sider them paid, my dear.” 

Uncle James !” 

Stay, don’t thank me until you know more. How 
do you propose to come up from Surrey every day to 
work at your school ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

I wonder if you could be induced to live away from 
that father of yours from Monday to Saturday of each 
week.” 

“ Yes,” replied Catalina, “ I think I could do that when 
so much — so much depends on it.” 

“ I am glad you have so much sense. Now, is there 
any one who would board you in town, close to the 
school I mean ? Is there a respectable, comfortable sort 
of house where a little, wild, daring girl like yourself 
could be placed ?” 

Oh, Uncle James, how splendid you are. Why, of 
course, there are plenty of boarding-houses quite close 
to the school, and half the students live in them.” 

“ Do you know one that is more specially recom- 
mended than the others ?” 

“Of course, Mrs. Gillespie’s is the best of all; but 
then it is the most expensive.” 


250 


CA TALINA. 


“ We won’t think of expense in this matter, Catalina. 
Now, is that hat on ?” 

ril fly and get it on, Uncle James.” 

“ Then we’ll just stroll over to Mrs. Gillespie’s and see 
what can be managed.” 

Catalina rushed from the room. On the stairs she 
met Madeline. 

” Well, Catty,” cried Madeline, “ is it all arranged ? 
Are we to spend next winter together ?” 

” No, dear Maddie. Oh, it is so kind of you ; but it 
cannot be done — it cannot, really.” 

Catalina dashed past her cousin and flew to her room. 
Madeline stood on the stairs and watched her with 
twinkling eyes. In a moment Catalina had put on her 
hat and flown downstairs to join her uncle. 

” Now, I am ready,” she said, looking into his 
face. 

“ Then we’ll go,” he said. 

A few minutes’ quick walking brought them to Mrs. 
Gillespie’s large boarding-house, which was situated at 
right angles to the great quadrangle which contained the 
Randall School of Art. Mrs. Gillespie happened to be 
at home. By strange good luck she also said that she 
had one vacant room for the beginning of the session. 
She and Mr. Ell worthy had a short but satisfactory in- 
terview. She mentioned her terms, two guineas a week, 
which seemed to Catalina outrageously large. Mr. Ell- 
worthy evidently thought nothing of them, and agreed 
to pay the money without demur. 

“You are responsible to me for all money matters,” 
said the uncle, as he was leaving the house, “ and please 
understand that I want this little girl to have every com- 


THE CARICATURES AGAIN. 25 I 

fort. She is to be in the position of a parlour boarder, 
whatever that old-fashioned word signifies.” 

I think I understand,” said Mrs. Gillespie. 

“ Well, see you treat her well ; give her the best food, 
extra milk, and wine, if necessary. She is growing fast, 
and I should like to see more colour in her cheeks.” 

“ I will do everything possible for her,” said Mrs. 
Gillespie. 

“ Thank you, thank you ; keep her in health whatever 
you do. She is going to make her name and her mark 
in the world some day.” 

” She would not be Professor Gifford’s daughter if 
she did not do that,” said Mrs. Gillespie, looking with 
immense respect first at the rich uncle and then at his 
niece. 

Catalina left the house feeling as if there were wings 
to her feet. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE CARICATURES AGAIN. 

All delightful things having happened together, 
Catalina prepared to enjoy herself during the remainder 
of the summer. It seemed to her as if clouds could 
never rise again on her horizon. The house in Surrey 
proved as pleasant as such an old-fashioned house would 
be to town-bred folk. The Professor grew better hour 
by hour, and Catty and her father between them nursed 
their day-dreams, and lived one for the other. Yes, the 
world was golden now to Catalina; she felt assured of 


252 


CATALINA. 


success. God’s goodness seemed to keep a psalm always 
singing in her heart; her bright eyes shone with pure 
happiness, her gay laughter was heard all over the house. 
Day by day fresh beauty seemed to come into her speak- 
ing face. It was her wish to make her whole life a dedi- 
cation to the best of all ; her art should raise her. If 
she had talent she would use it for the highest purposes. 

The day at last came when she had to say good-bye 
to home and take up her abode at Mrs. Gillespie’s 
boarding-house. It was true she was to return every 
Saturday, but she was no longer to be quite the home- 
bird. The Professor was now to all appearance as well 
as ever; Mrs. Gifford was quite able to look after him, 
and Catalina could go to the work she loved best with a 
light heart. 

Mrs. Gillespie’s boarding-house was a particularly 
comfortable one ; it was the most expensive in the whole 
long row of boarding-houses, and was considered a 
luxurious home for those art students who were sup- 
posed to have money. Catalina was surprised and 
pleased to find when she entered the long and pretty 
drawing-room that Margaret Ashton and Lucy Gray 
were amongst the boarders. 

“ Well, by all that’s wonderful !” cried Lucy, when she 
saw Catty enter the room. “ What in the world are you 
doing here, little professor ?” 

“ Why, I have come to live here,” said Catalina. “ Oh, 
such a lot has happened since I saw you last, Lucy.” 
She ran up to her friend and kissed her affectionately. 

“ I am delighted to see you,” said Lucy. “ You must 
tell me all your story presently; I see you have a great 
deal to say by your face.” 


THE CARICATURES AGAIN, 2S3 

“ I did not know you lived here,” said Catalina, in 
reply. 

“ I have not done so until now ; but my people have 
all made up their minds to winter abroad, and, as nothing 
would induce me to give up dear Professor Forde and 
his admirable instruction, I have come to Mrs. Gillespie 
until Christmas.” 

“ Come here this minute. Catty, and kiss me,” said 
Margaret Ashton. “ Have you any inquiries to make 
of me, puss ; don’t you know that I have always lived 
here during term time ?” 

“ I did not know it,” answered Catalina. She went 
up to Margaret, who put her arm round her waist. 

“You look well, child,” she said, “and how bright 
your eyes are.” 

“ I am very well and happy,” answered Catalina. 

“ Is your father better now ?” 

“ Yes, much better; he is getting quite well again.” 

At that moment the drawing-room door was opened, 
and Rhoda Stanford came in. 

“ Here I am,” she said. “ I arrived half an hour ago. 
How do you do, Lucy? How do you do, Margaret? — 
Why, Catalina Gifford, what are you doing here ?” 

“ I am going to live here,” said Catty. 

“ To live here ?” replied Rhoda, opening her eyes. 

“ And why not ?’ interrupted Lucy. “ Has not Cata- 
lina as good a right to the comforts of Mrs. Gillespie’s 
boarding-house as any one else ?” 

“Of course, of course,” said Rhoda; “only I did not 
know.” She pouted her lips and looked disdainful. 
Catalina coloured. 

“ You, Rhoda, are a stranger here, too,” said Margaret, 

2Z 


254 


CATALINA. 


keeping fast hold of Catty’s hand while she was speak- 
ing ; you surely have never lived in one of the boarding- 
houses before?” 

Rhoda, who had sunk into the most comfortable arm- 
chair in the room, slightly turned her head. 

“ No,” she replied ; “ but this time I have absolutely 
made up my mind to give myself up to art. Art is a 
hard mistress,” she continued, “ and will never be satis- 
fied with half measures.” 

None of the other girls replied to this ; they knew too 
well how futile Rhoda’s attempts at art must always be. 
Some other art students at this moment entered the 
room, and Catty and Margaret found themselves pushed 
into a corner. 

“ I am really delighted to have you here, Catty,” said 
Margaret ; “ but, now that we are quite by ourselves for 
a moment, let me whisper something to you.” 

“ What is that ?” 

“ Have as little as possible to do with Rhoda. I know 
it is uncharitable of me to speak as I am going to do, 
but there is something about that girl I cannot bear. 
For some reason unknown, she seems to have a spite 
against you.” 

“ Oh, I don’t think so,” replied Catalina. 

“Yes, but she has. She will never give you a good 
word if she can help it. I see she is as jealous as possi- 
ble of your being here. Perhaps she is also jealous of 
your talent. Catty. Well, be on your guard when with 
her, and now don’t let us talk any more on such a dis- 
agreeable subject. We begin to work hard to-morrow, 
don’t we? I suppose you intend to carry all before 
you.” 


THE CARICATURES AGAIN. 


255 


Not all by any means,” answered Catalina. “You 
know I must not compete for the scholarship this ses- 
sion, for I did not try for the last composition ; I could 
not help that, because father was so ill. But I shall cer- 
tainly do drawings for all the compositions of this term, 
for I feel bound in honour to have a struggle for that 
scholarship next session.” 

“ We shall none of us have the privilege of trying for 
the scholarship this year,” said Margaret “You have 
not forgotten, have you, that horrid affair about the caric- 
atures ? Well, Professor Forde is still very angry, and 
he sticks firmly to his resolution that his scholarship 
shall not be competed for until the guilty girl confesses.” 

“ I cannot think who could have done the drawings,” 
said Catalina. 

“ Nor can I,” echoed Margaret. “ To caricature well 
is a very uncommon gift,” she added. 

Catalina coloured faintly. 

Margaret suddenly sprang to her feet. 

“ I feel restless and wretched about this thing,” she 
said. “It throws a cloud over us all. You know the 
whole subject is to be reopened to-morrow. By the way, 
Catty, have you yet seen the caricatures ?” 

“ No, I did not have an opportunity of looking at 
them. You remember father got ill just when the fuss 
was at its height.” 

“ Of course I remember, and I was so sorry you were 
not in the school ; all the rest of us were put on our 
word of honour as to whether we were guilty or not. 
Poor Catty, you have yet to be questioned ; but never 
mind ; if we were all as innocent as you are, we should 
not have much to fear.” 


256 


CA TALINA, 


“ I should like to see the caricatures very much/' said 
Catalina. 

“ Well, perhaps we can get into the school. I know 
exactly where to look for the professors’ easels. Let us 
have a try. There is no saying but you may be able to 
throw some light on the subject.” 

“ I don’t suppose I can do that, but of course I should 
like to see them.” 

“ Come with me at once ; we shall just have time before 
supper.” 

The two girls left the room together ; they went down- 
stairs and had a short interview with Mrs. Gillespie. 

“You know, of course,” said Margaret, “that we are 
all in trouble about that mysterious occurrence which 
took place last term.” 

“You allude to the caricatures on the professors’ 
easels ?” said Mrs. Gillespie. “ Well, I consider it a 
shameful thing to do ; kinder and more considerate men 
never lived.” 

“ It was disgraceful,” said Margaret. “ But now, Mrs. 
Gillespie, this young lady, Miss Gifford, has never had 
an opportunity of looking at the easels since the occur- 
rence took place. You know she had to leave before last 
term was over, on account of her father’s illness. Do 
you think you could manage to give us the key of the 
studio ; I should like her to see the easels to-night.” 

“ Well, my dear, there can be no harm in letting you 
use my private key. Bring it back to me when you have 
done with it.” 

Mrs. Gillespie produced the key from a drawer, and 
Margaret and Catty entered the wide gates which led 
into the quadrangle ; a few moments later they found 


THE CARICATURES AGAIN. 


257 


themselves in the large studio devoted to the study of 
animal painting. The three easels which had been tam- 
pered with were placed by themselves at the farther end 
of the room. The girls approached them, and Margaret 
turned them round for Catty to have a good view. The 
caricatures had been done rather deep into the wood in 
ink ; they were sketched in masterly fashion, in different 
guises and attitudes round the edges of the easels. There 
was a considerable amount of force in the drawings, 
which did not look in the least like the work of a novice. 

“ This is what puzzles every one,” said Margaret ; “ the 
caricatures are so good, and as far as we can tell not a 
girl in the studio has got the special gift. Did you ever 
see anything so disgraceful in your life, Catty ? Here, 
look at this ridiculous portrait of dear Professor Forde. 
Of course, it is true; it is too true. How often have I 
not seen him just in that attitude, just bending forward 
so, and screwing up his eyes. Can’t you almost hear 
him say, ‘ Not quite so wooden, Miss Jones,’ or ‘ What 
about the anatomy of that leg. Miss Smith ?’ Oh, you 
know, don’t you. Catty, his exact words? He is just 
going to pounce upon some unlucky student at this mo- 
ment. Oh, and here is Mr. Fortescue ; can you not 
almost see him blushing. Oh, and dear, dear fat Profes- 
sor Johnson ; disgraceful as it all is, I cannot help laugh- 
mg. 

Catalina remained absolutely silent. 

“What is the matter. Catty?” said her friend, sud- 
denly. “ Oh, I know you are shocked,” she added, 
“but are you not amused as well? Aren’t the draw- 
ings clever ?” 

“ Margaret,” said Catty. Her voice came low, almost 


258 


CA TALINA. 


from her throat ; she put up her hand to loosen the collar 
of her dress. 

“ I don’t understand what this means/’ she continued ; 

“ those caricatures have ” She paused again, she 

could scarcely get out her words. 

“ What can be the matter with you, Catty ? do speak. 
Is it possible you know anything about this matter ?” 

“ I do not know who copied those drawings on the 
easels,” said Catalina ; “ but of course they are copies.” 

“ Copies ? Copies of what ?” 

“ Oh, Margaret, how am I to tell you ? Of course 
they have been copied.” 

“ What is it, my dear ; Catty, do speak.” 

“ They are like, exactly like some drawings I once 
made,” said Catalina. 

‘‘You? Can you caricature? Yes, of course, I re- 
member now you told me you could.” 

“ I can, Margaret. Oh, I can, and I used to be so 
fond of it. Oh, this quite frightens me. What can it 
mean, Margaret?” 

Catalina sank down bn the nearest chair ; she could 
not take her fascinated eyes from the drawings. 

“You had much better tell me everything, Catty j 
there is nothing for it but for me to know the simple 
truth.” Margaret’s voice was full of distress ; there was 
even a terrible note of distrust in it. 

“ Margaret, you must know that I am innocent, that I 
had nothing whatever to do with this” — here Catalina 
pointed to the easels. “ Do you think for a single mo- 
ment I would dare to caricature the professors in — in 
public r 

“ Then you did caricature them in private ?” 


THE CARICATURES AGAIN. 


259 


“ Yes, but only for my very own self. I cannot think 
what made me do it ; but one morning, during last term, 
an overpowering desire to sketch Professor Forde just as 
he looked came over me, and I scribbled something in 
charcoal on a half-sheet of drawing-paper. Then I 
made a sketch of Mr. Fortescue and another of Pro- 
fessor Johnson, and then I think I added one or two 
sketches of the most pronounced-looking of the students. 
From that hour to now I forgot all about my work. 
My impression is that I tore up the paper. Of course, I 
could not have done so, Margaret ; for some one must 
have picked it up, and — and copied my work on to the 
easels. Oh, what is to be done ?” 

“ This certainly looks very bad,” said Margaret. 

“But you believe me; say at least that you believe 
me. You know I could not be mean, that nothing would 
induce me ” 

“ I know, child, of course said Margaret, “ but now, 
do let me think for a moment. Oh, I am not blaming 
you, Catty ; but the thing really looks so ugly. If what 
you say is true, and of course it hiust be, there is malice 
somewhere, and clever, dreadful malice, too. Catty, 
please stay where you are while I fetch Lucy Gray. 
She is your friend as well as mine. You must tell her 
exactly what you have just told me.” 

Margaret ran from the studio. 

Catalina, left by herself, went up again to the easels, 
and began to examine the caricatures. There was not 
the least manner of doubt that they were excellent and 
accurate copies of her own work. Just the pose, just 
the air, the indescribable look of life which she had so 
faithfully reproduced, were once again perceptible on the 


26 o 


CATALINA. 


margins of the easels. She pressed her hand to her 
throbbing forehead : a sense of bewilderment made her 
almost giddy. 

“ What can I have done with the charcoal drawings ?” 
she said to herself “ My impression is that I sketched 
them on a half-sheet of paper ; but perhaps I really did 
them in my drawing-book.” She then remembered that 
she had never taken her net bag from school. A thought 
of the last morning she had spent there rushed back to 
her mind ; she was sent for suddenly to come home when 
her father had been taken ill ; of course she had forgotten 
all about her bag, about everything but just the one 
supreme passion of her life. Her bag was, therefore, 
still at the school, and her drawing-book was in all 
probability in it too. If she could only find Jackson, 
the caretaker, he would give her her bag. 

Footsteps were heard approaching, and Lucy accom- 
panied by Margaret entered the studio. Margaret had 
already given her an outline of the case; her round, 
good-humoured face looked pale and concerned. 

“ This is a very nasty business,” said Margaret. “ My 
impression is that some malicious person has con- 
ceived this plot to ruin Catty. I never did like Rhoda; 
I am convinced that she is at the bottom of this busi- 
ness.” 

“ Really, Margaret, that is uncharitable of you,” cried 
Lucy. I don’t care for Rhoda either, not a bit ; but it 
is unfair to saddle her, or any one, with so dreadful a 
crime. Besides, she is not half, nor quarter, clever 
enough to do anything of that sort.” 

“ Oh, please, Lucy, don’t say that you believe that I 
did it,” cried Catty. 


THE CAE /CATC/EES AGAIN. 


261 

“ No, I don’t believe that for a moment,” answered 
Lucy, ” but, all the same, it is but fair to tell you. Catty, 
that things look very bad. Of course there was not the 
least harm in your drawing caricatures for your own 

private amusement ; the sin was ” 

There was no sin,” said Catalina, colouring high. ‘‘ I 
made the caricatures in an idle moment, and my impres- 
sion is that I tore up the paper.” 

“ Well, you evidently did not. Now, let us sit here 
and talk the thing over. We must really make up our 
minds what is to be done, and at once. Can you not 
recall what you did with your drawings, Catalina ?” 

“ I think I tore them up, but I may be mistaken. I’ll 
go and find Jackson, and ask him for my bag. I may 
have made the sketches in my drawing-book, but that 
certainly is not my own impression.” 

” Well, run and fetch the bag.” 

After some little difficulty, Catalina found Jackson. He 
knew all about her bag, and told her where he had put it. 

“ Here it is, miss, in this drawer,” he said. “ I took 
care of it for you, and laid it here to be out of harm’s 
way. There’s nothing whatever in it but two or three 
bits of paper.” 

“ Please give it to me,” said Catty. Her hand trembled. 
The man gave it without a word. Just as she was 
leaving the dressing-room he called after her. 

“ I’d be right glad to know. Miss Gifford, how the 
Professor is.” 

“ Oh, he is nearly quite well again,” replied the little 
girl ; “ thank you very much for asking about him.” Her 
heart was too full to allow her to say another word just 
then. She joined Margaret and Lucy in the studio. 


262 


CA TALINA. 


“ There is nothing in the bag,” she said, ” except torn 
paper; at least, I suppose it is torn. Take it out, please, 
Margaret, and look for yourself,” 

She sat down on the nearest chair, her legs trembled, 
her hands trembled, she had difficulty in keeping herself 
quiet. From the serene blue of the bluest of skies to 
this darkness was a leap so sudden that poor Catalina 
nearly lost her self-control. Margaret took up the bag 
and untied the string. Then she put in her hand and 
drew out one or two torn pieces of paper, also a half- 
sheet of note-paper which was scribbled over with 
perfect fac-similes of the caricatures on the easels. 

“No, those are not mine,” said poor Catalina, “but 
they are copied from mine. Mine were done in charcoal, 
these are done in pen and ink. Oh, Margaret, who 
could have got hold of my charcoal drawings ?” 

“ Who, indeed,” echoed Margaret. 

Meanwhile, Lucy stood quite silent, Catty with a face 
the colour of death glanced from one girl to the 
other. 

“ What do you advise me to do, Margaret ?” she said 
at last, in a voice of despair. 

“ You must tell the truth, I am afraid,” said Margaret. 
“ I fear also,” she added, “ that things will go badly with 
you. Of course, Lucy and I believe that you are inno- 
cent.” 

“ Oh, Margaret ! oh, Lucy !” cried the child. “ Oh, 
this will kill me — it will kill me.” All the foreign blood 
in her passionate nature seemed to awaken. 

“ And I was so happy,” she continued, “ and every- 
thing seemed so perfect.” She covered her face with 
her hands, and gave way to the most overwhelming 


THE CARICATURES AGAIN. 


263 

grief. “ To think of it, Margaret,” she continued, “ to 
think of Uncle James, and of father, and of their good- 
ness. Oh, Margaret and Lucy, what am I to do ?” 

It is about the most shameful thing I ever heard of,” 
said Lucy ; she glanced at Margaret as she spoke. “ Of 
course the poor little thing is innocent,” she added. 

“ Without any doubt the guilty person is Rhoda,” said 
Margaret. “ How she managed to get hold of Catalina’s 
drawings is a mystery, but get them she did. This 
accounts for her queer manner, and the spiteful way she 
always speaks of Catty. There is no surer way to hate 
another than first to injure that person. Oh, the whole 
thing is a horrid and dirty trick. Rhoda has managed 
very cleverly to saddle the consequences of her own act 
on poor Catalina; for there is little doubt that things 
will go hard with her to-morrow.” 

The girls talked together for a little longer, and 
Catalina presently regained enough composure to be 
able to listen calmly to the advice of her compan- 
ions. 

“ You must tell the simple truth,” they both said. 
“ You will, of course, be questioned to-morrow, and you 
must tell what you have just told us. It is doubtful 
whether you will be believed ; but there is nothing for it 
but to tell the truth.” 

” Of course,” answered Catalina. “ It is all dreadful,” 
she added. I feel as if my life had suddenly come to 
a sort of end. Oh, I don’t know what I feel, I suppose 
it is despair.” 

“ No, no. Catty ; try not to give up hope,” said Lucy, 
kissing her affectionately. “ Remember, at least, what- 
ever happens, Margaret and I are your friends. We 


264 


CA TALINA. 


won’t leave a stone unturned to get the rightful culprit 
to confess, and now we must go back, or people will 
wonder what we are doing.” 


CHAPTER XVIL 

IN TROUBLE. 

What poor Catalina went through during that miser- 
able night no words can describe. Suddenly from the 
height of bliss, she was whirled to the depths of despair. 

She could not see her way a single step. This was 
not the first occasion on which the little girl had been 
called upon to fight dragons, but surely never before had 
a dragon like the present stood in her path. 

At an early hour the following morning, Lucy Gray 
came into Catty’s bedroom. 

I guessed you would be looking something like you 
do,” she said. “ Heavy eyes, black shadows under 
them, white face, and all the rest. Now, let me tell you, 
Catalina, this will never do. You must not give way at 
the onset in this fashion. You must rub some colour 
into your cheeks, and pluck up your spirits, and take a 
capital breakfast. In short, you have got to act as an 
innocent person would act.” 

“ I am innocent,” said Catalina ; but I feel now that 
I was mad to draw the caricatures.” 

“ Nonsense ; the only thing that could be said about 
that is that it was a little ill-advised ; the fact is, you are 
in a funk. I want to get you right out of it. Above all 


IN TROUBLE. 265 

things I don’t wish that spiteful Rhoda to see you look- 
ing as you do now.” 

“ Lucy, what ought I to do.” 

“ Look here, do be led by me. Don’t appear at the 
general breakfast this morning. I’ll run downstairs and 
bring something up. Half of the students in this house 
have their breakfasts upstairs, so there will be nothing 
remarkable in your not coming down. I’ll fetch your 
breakfast in a jiffy.” 

Lucy rushed from the room. She presently returned 
with a tray of tempting food, and put it down on a 
little table by the window. 

“ Come,” she said, “ here you are ; you must swallow 
every bit. Is not this nice coffee, and the toast in that 
little rack is really quite presentable. Now, then, that’s 
better. We shall soon be going across to the school ; 
Margaret and I are both going to wait for you ; we three 
will enter the school together.” 

“ Oh, thank you ; you are good to me,” said Catalina. 

“ I have one last word for you, child, and then I must 
be off. Both Margaret and I have talked over everything. 
We have made up our minds absolutely and completely 
to believe in you. Now does not that fact help you a 
bit?” 

“ Oh, it does, more than words can say.” Catty threw 
her arms round her friend’s neck and kissed her passion- 
ately. 

‘^You will soon see the sunny side of this scrape, 
Catalina; and pray remember that genius always had 
and always has enemies in this world. Meet us in the 
hall in five minutes, and keep up your pecker.” 

The first morning of term was always an exciting day. 
23 


M 


266 


CA TALINA. 


Friends who had been parted for months were now meet- 
ing again. New students were looking anxiously around 
them, wondering what their niche would be in the great 
school, and how their companions would receive them. 
The large art shop round the corner was doing a thriving 
trade. Girls and boys were rushing in and out, carrying 
rolls of paper, boxes of charcoal, tubes of colour, and 
other materials for their art. Then the professors were 
seen coming in from different parts. Presently the great 
clock boomed out the hour of ten. Catty, who had been 
watching this scene from her window, snatched up her 
canvas bag with all its tell-tale misery within, gave one 
wild glance at her white face in the glass, uttered a frantic 
prayer for courage and rushed downstairs. As she did 
so, Rhoda came slowly out of the breakfast-room. 

“ Well, Margaret,” she said, going up to Margaret 
Ashton as she spoke, “ I am glad you are not off yet ; 
we may as well go across to the school together. Oh, 
Catalina, how do you do ?” She glanced at Catty’s bag 
which she saw hanging on her arm. “ I expect we’ll 
have rather an exciting time this morning,” she continued. 
“ Don’t forget, Catalina, that the question which was put 
to all the rest of us has yet to be put to you. Of course 
I allude to the mystery with regard to the caricatures. 
Have you forgotten that occurrence ?” 

“ No, I do not forget,” said Catalina. 

“ Don’t bother her now, Rhoda,” said Lucy Gray ; 
“come along with me.” She tucked her hand through 
Rhoda’s arm. This familiarity was not at all in accord- 
ance with Lucy’s general behaviour ; and Rhoda, who 
longed to make her her friend, was so much delighted 
that she said nothing more about the caricatures. 


IN TROUBLE. 


267 


Margaret and Catty followed somewhat slowly, behind 
the other pair. They entered the studio, and Margaret 
whispered to Catalina, 

“ Get out your easel, begin your work just as if noth- 
ing whatever had happened, and don’t forget that Lucy 
and I believe in you.” 

ni cling to that, Margaret,” murmured poor Catty. 

Two or three girls ran up to greet her. Their affec- 
tionate words and looks of real pleasure helped to 
strengthen her a little. She found her easel, and put it 
in a good position. A very fine race-horse was led in by 
a groom ; it was quickly got into position, and the girls 
pinned fresh paper on their easels, and those who could 
paint took out their canvases. There was a little hush 
at this moment, for the two younger professors and Mr. 
Fortescue entered the room. The usual greetings at the 
beginning of term took place; the old students were 
affectionately remembered and spoken to, and the new 
girls were encouraged and shown how to begin their 
work. Then, as his custom was. Professor Forde went 
up to the end of the room, where the model stood, and 
gave a little lecture. He pointed out the special points 
of this horse, said some words as to the importance of 
the work which was now just recommencing, and then 
turned to begin his duties of going from easel to easel to 
superintend and encourage each special student’s efforts. 
At this moment, Mr. Fortescue appeared and said some- 
thing in Professor Forde’s ear. 

‘‘True, I had forgotten,” he replied, a slight frown 
coming between his brows. He returned once more to 
his place at the head of the room. 

“ Mr. Fortescue has reminded me of something very 


268 


CA TALINA. 


painful,” he said, ” and I find it necessary to add some 
words to those I have already spoken. I have to remind 
the students before me of a disagreeable duty. A dis- 
graceful act was perpetrated during last term. The deed 
was done, not in a spirit of fun, for the most reckless fun 
may be and will be forgiven, but in an insolent spirit of 
rebellion and bravado. I allude to a subject which must 
be known to every girl now present, with the exception 
of those who have just joined the school. The other 
professors and I have made up our minds to find out the 
truth, with regard to the pen and ink caricatures of Pro- 
fessor Johnson, Mr. Fortescue, and myself — which have 
been sketched on our easels. The girl who has done 
this wanton mischief, who has perpetrated this unkind 
and heartless joke must confess her wrong-doing, or her 
fellow-students will be implicated in her own disgrace. 
I have already put the question to the school, but I will 
repeat it now. Those who are innocent hold up their 
hands.” 

In a moment each pair of hands in the school was 
raised ; there was a perfect forest of hands, some eager 
shuffling of excited feet was heard ; the intense excite- 
ment of the moment seemed to get into the very air. 
Catalina felt her face growing white ; she had a sensa- 
tion as if cold air was blowing upon her. She wondered 
if she should faint. She did not dare to raise her eyes, 
although she longed to do so. No one noticed her. 
Each student was absorbed in her own reflections, in 
vaguely wondering how the scandal was going to end. 

” The caricatures did not appear without hands,” said 
Professor Forde again ; some one is guilty. I have 
already questioned each girl separately with the excep- 


IN TROUBLE. 


269 

tion of one. That one girl happened to be absent during 
the end of last term ; but as I fully believe in her, I will 
not do her the dishonour of asking her separately if she 
knows anything about this matter.” 

Here there was a little chuckle, and some girls said 
“ Bravo” under their breaths. Catty felt the hand of an 
affectionate fellow-student laid on her shoulder ; she was 
too agitated to look up. 

“But,” continued Professor Forde, “the present state 
of things is much too serious to remain without a 
thorough investigation. I am forced to take extreme 
measures, not only to secure the confession of the real 
culprit, but also to prevent the repetition of such a 
dastardly and cowardly outrage. If order is not insisted 
on, if respect is not shown in a school of this kind to 
your teachers, girls, it is impossible for us to do you any 
justice. One of you has done this deed. Girls of the 
Randall School, it rests with yourselves now either to 
remain under suspicion for the whole of the present 
session, in which case the scholarship will be withdrawn, 
or to induce the guilty girl to come forward and save 
her companions.” 

Professor Forde paused and looked down the long 
room. Many of the girls with crimson faces and bright 
eyes were gazing fixedly at him. Some, however, sat 
with lowered eyes. Amongst that group was Catty. 
She sat, as usual, well to the front. Her easel partly 
shaded her face ; her thick, curly locks also acted as a 
veil. For a moment she had a wild desire to say nothing, 
not to expose her terrible secret. 

“ Professor Forde fully believes in me now,” she said, 
to herself ; “ when I tell him the truth he will suspect — 

23* 


270 


CATALINA. 


oh, he will do more, he will really think that I am 
guilty.” 

*‘You have all just declared your innocence,” con- 
tinued the Professor, “ and yet assuredly one of you is 
guilty. I have now something further to say. If at 
this moment the girl who is really guilty will have the 
courage to come forward and make a complete con- 
fession I will forgive her ; she shall receive no punish- 
ment, she shall not be expelled from the school. My 
full and perfect forgiveness will be accorded to her, and 
the shame will be removed from her fellow-students.” 

The Professor paused and looked anxiously around 
him ; his fine face was full of feeling ; his eyes wore a 
pleading glance. He seemed to beseech by his very 
attitude the guilty one to rise to greatness by the agony 
of a true confession. 

” One of you assuredly is guilty,” he said again. ‘‘ I 
cannot look into your hearts, but neither can I believe 
the impossible. Those caricatures were made by human 
hands. The professors would assuredly not caricature 
themselves; the only other person who has access to 
this studio is the attendant, Jackson, who cannot draw a 
single stroke. One of you, in a spirit of mischief, per- 
haps at first not realising what she was doing, has been 
guilty of this crime. Black and disgraceful as it was at 
first, the sin of concealing it is far and away the greater 
sin. Whoever you are, will you not confess ? I know 
the guilty person is now before me ; will you not save 
your companions? Will you not lift the burden from 
your own conscience and save your soul alive ? At this 
moment there is free forgiveness.” 

There was no reply. The silence might have been 


IN TROUBLE, 


271 


felt, a pin might have been heard to drop. The Pro- 
fessor waited a full minute, then he changed his position 
and spoke in a different tone ; there was sternness in his 
voice. 

“ May I speak to you, Professor Johnson ?” he called 
out. 

Professor Johnson walked up the room; he and Pro- 
fessor Forde talked together for a moment in low tones. 

“ It is our disagreeable duty,” said Professor Forde 
then, “ to announce that the moment of grace is past. 
Professor Johnson and I will not leave a stone unturned 
to expose the guilty girl, and, whenever she is discov- 
ered, she will be expelled from the Randall School.” 

Again that fearful silence; several of the students 
turned from red to white. One or two of them said 
afterwards that they wondered the loud beating of their 
hearts was not heard. 

“ I have another question to ask,” said Professor 
Forde. Can any girl in the school help to throw light 
on the mystery? Has anyone anything at all to say 
which will help Professor Johnson and myself to dis- 
cover the guilty person ?” 

To the amazement of every one, at these words Cata- 
lina Gifford rose to her feet. 

“ I can say something,” she whispered. 

“You, Catalina?” said Professor Forde. 

“ Yes,” she replied. 

“ Speak louder, please. Miss Gifford,” said Professor 
Johnson. 

“ Yes, my dear, come up here,” said Professor Forde, 
kindly. “ Come and stand near me,” he continued. “ It 
is brave of you to tell what you know,” he half-whis- 


2/2 


CATALINA. 


pered in Catalina’s ear. “ It is what I should have ex- 
pected of your father’s daughter.” 

Some of the girls noticed that Catalina wore hanging 
on her arm her little string bag. When she found her- 
self standing on the platform by Professor Forde’s side 
she looked for a moment at the sea of faces. They were 
all blurred and dim to her, until suddenly one stood out 
distinct and clear. This face wore a malignant light, 
there was also a look half of terror half of relief round 
the lips and eyes. 

“ Rhoda knows the truth,” thought the child. ” What 
does it, what can it all mean? Oh, I see the truth in 
Rhoda’s face. Oh, God, give — give me strength.” 

” Now, Catalina, speak up, and tell us exactly what 
you know,” said Professor Forde. 

” I believe I can throw some light on the mystery,” 
said Catalina. 

“ What have you to say ?” 

“ First of all I have something to show she opened 
her bag as she spoke, took out the half-sheet of paper, 
smoothed it and gave it to Professor Forde. He glanced 
at in astonishment. A queer expression crossed his face, 
it was the first withering breath of suspicion. He gave 
Catalina a sharp glance, and then passed the paper on to 
Professor Johnson. Professor Johnson looked at it and 
gave it to Mr. Fortescue, who was standing not far off. 

“ How did that paper get into your bag. Miss Gifford ?” 
said Professor Forde. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Catalina. 

Do you know anything about the paper itself?” 

“ I know nothing.” 

Can you not tell us how it got into your bag ?” 


IN TROUBLE, 


273 


I cannot ; I don’t know how it got there.” 

“ Have you nothing more to say ? Pray, speak up. 
Remember how important this is.” 

“ I have something more to say, and I will speak up,” 
said Catalina, with sudden courage. At that moment 
her fear seemed to take wings and leave her. She was 
no more afraid, just then, than she had been a couple of 
months ago in her uncle’s office at Manchester. Then 
she was fighting for her father, now she was fighting for 
herself, her own future, her own character ; it was right 
that she should fight, her courage should not fail her. 

” I found the paper in my bag last night,” she began. 
” I knew very little about the caricatures until last night. 
I was away at the end of the term because my father 
was very ill. During the holidays I met Rhoda Stan- 
ford, and she told me that all the students had been ques- 
tioned with regard to the caricatures, but that no light 
had been thrown on the mystery. When I came here 
last night Margaret Ashton spoke to me about it ; I told 
her that I had not yet seen the caricatures, and she came 
with me to the studio, and I looked at the drawings on 
your easel. Professor Forde, and also on the easels of 

Professor Johnson and Mr. Fortescue. I ” here her 

voice faltered for an instant, then grew firm and bold — 
“ I knew the caricatures.” 

“You knew them?” said Professor Forde. “You 
knew who had done the work ?” 

“ No, I knew nothing about that.” 

“ I cannot understand you. How could you know the 
caricatures without knowing their author ?” 

“ I knew the caricatures,” continued Catalina. “ Be- 
cause — because,” she added, boldly, “ they are copies.” 


2/4 


CATALINA. 


‘‘Copies? From what?” 

“From some work of mine.” 

There came a sort of prolonged sigh from every girl 
in the big room. Professor Forde’s face grew dark. 

“ Then you, Catalina, you are the guilty person ?” 

No, sir,” answered Catalina, raising her clear, dark 
eyes to his face, “ I am not.” 

“ Pray, explain yourself; you are too ambiguous for 
me. Either you drew the caricatures or you did not.” 

“ I drew them, sir, and yet I did not put them on the 
easels. I will tell you everything, if you will give me a 
moment I have always been fond of caricaturing. I 
used to make sketches of people when I was a little girl. 
I just exaggerated a little, and then the sketches looked 
comical. Father used to tell me I might get into trouble 
some day if I sketched my own friends, so in a great 
measure I gave it up ; but one day during last term the 
temptation came over me very strongly. I saw you. 
Professor, and I seized a piece of charcoal and some 
drawing-paper, and I made a likeness of you. It was 
like you, but, of course, it was a caricature. I did not 
for a moment mean it unkindly, but the impulse came 
over me and I could not resist it. You had often looked 
just as I sketched you. I made you look exactly the 
same as the sketch on that paper and the sketch in pen 
and ink on your easel. Then I made caricatures of Pro- 
fessor Johnson and Mr. Fortescue, and of two or three 
of the girls in the school. To do this amused me. I 
did not think anyone saw me at my work, and it was my 
impression that I tore up the paper and threw it away.” 

“ Well,” said Professor Forde. “ Go on.” 

“ That is all I know, sir. When I saw the caricatures 


IN TROUBLE. 


275 


yesterday, on the easels, I recognised them at once as 
copies of my own work. I was dreadfully puzzled and 
dreadfully unhappy. I could not imagine how anyone 
could have got access to my drawings. Then it oc- 
curred to me that, after all, I might not have made the 
sketches on a separate piece of paper, but might have 
done them in my drawing-book — so I ran to get my bag, 
which was left here during the holidays. I found the 
bag, but there was no drawing-book in it. I remembered 
then that I had taken it home. There was some torn 
paper in the bag, and this half-sheet of paper. I un- 
folded it and found that it contained copies of my char- 
coal drawings in pen and ink. I do not know how the 
paper got into my bag. That is all the light I can throw 
upon the mystery, Professor Forde ; that is all that I can 
tell you.” 

Catty’s voice rang out quite loudly. As she said the 
last words, she looked boldly down the long room. 
Rhoda’s face was ghastly, there were ugly blotches of 
color on it ; she was fidgeting her feet up and down in a 
nervous manner. 

“ Keep still, can’t you, Rhoda,” said a girl who sat 
near her. 

There was a profound and awful silence in the room. 

Your story is a very strange one, and very difficult 
to believe,” said Professor Forde then to Catalina. “ I 
must say plainly that if I did not know you so well, if I 
did not believe that your father’s daughter could scarcely 
sink to anything so base, untrue, mean, and despicable, 
it would be my painful duty ” 

'' No, no, don’t say that,” cried Catalina, she covered 
her face, her voice had risen to a great cry of pain. 


276 


CA TALINA. 


“ Hush, you must listen to me. You have acknow- 
ledged that you are the originator of the caricatures.” 

“ Yes, I made the original drawings, I never copied 
them in pen and ink, I never transferred them to the 
easels.” 

” You cannot tell me who did that ?” 

“ No, Professor Forde.” 

” Very well. Seeing that you are your father’s daugh- 
ter, that up to the present you have done nothing which 
could in the least disgrace your character, I will give you 
a week, a whole week, to discover the person who stole 
your charcoal-drawings and made pen and ink sketches 
of them on our easels. If at the end of the week no light 
can be thrown upon this mystery, it will be my painful, 
my extremely painful duty, to believe that you yourself, 
Catalina, are the guilty person — that you have confessed 
half but not all. In that case, my poor child ” 

” Yes, sir, in that case ?” said Catalina. She raised her 
eyes now, and looked full at the Professor. 

“ In that case, it will be my painful duty to report you 
to the Head of the Randall School, who will immediately 
expel you.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

TO THE RESCUE. 

*‘We must see Catalina through this trouble,” said 
Margaret Ashton. 

She was seated in her own little private sitting-room in 
Mrs. Gillespie’s boarding-house. Margaret was one of 
the richest girl§; in the house, and in addition to a bed- 


TO THE RESCUE. 


277 


room had this little room for her own. She had invited 
Lucy Gray and two other girls, sisters of the name of 
Ferrier, to meet her there in order to consult over the 
caricature scandal, as she termed it. 

“ I will do anything in the world for Catty,” said Lucy, 
“ but the thing is what to do. There is no doubt she 
has got herself into a terrible scrape by her confession 
of this morning.” 

“ Don’t you respect her for it ?” said Margaret. “ Of 
course we urged her to confess, but she might in the first 
instance have concealed it. For my part I wonder that 
Professor Forde can doubt her.” 

“ I don’t believe he does doubt her really,” said Annie 
Ferrier ; “ but of course he has every other girl in the 
school to consider. Catalina confesses that she was the 
originator of the caricatures. What we have now to 
find out is, how the pen and ink copy got into her bag — 
who stole the charcoal drawings — who copied them in 
pen and ink, and who transferred the copy to the master’s 
easels.” 

“ That last is the point of points,” said Lucy. She 
looked again at Margaret as she spoke. “ I think,” she 
said, after a pause, “ that it is your duty, Margaret, to 
state your suspicions.” 

“ I hate doing so, but I believe you are right, Lucy,” 
answered Margaret. “ If we are not very careful now — 
if we donk act to the very best of our ability, one of the 
cleverest and nicest girls in the school may be ruined for 
life.” 

“ Well, speak out, Margaret,” said Annie Ferrier. 

“ The fact is this, Annie. Catalina, for no apparent 
reason, has an enemy in the school.” 

24 


2/8 


CATALINA. 


“ I wonder,” began Dora Ferrier. 

“ What do you wonder, Dora ?” 

“ If your thought and mine coincides.” 

There is no use in beating about the bush any 
longer,” said Margaret ; “ the girl who hates Catalina is 
Rhoda Stanford. Now, we ought to find out why she 
hates her.” 

“ I think I can throw a little light on that mystery,” 
said Dora. 

“ Please, Dora, speak,” said Lucy ; we shall be most 
thankful if you can give us the faintest clue to go 
upon.” 

” I guess,” continued Dora, “ why Rhoda dislikes 
Catalina.” 

'' Well, do go on.” 

“ I happened during last term to sit close to Rhoda 
and Catty. Soon after Rhoda’s arrival at the school I 
heard her asking Catty what she thought of her work — 
you know Rhoda’s style of art, don’t you ?” 

” Perfectly, but we need not enter into that,” said 
Margaret. 

“ But it is necessary in order to explain why Rhoda 
should dislike Catalina. On a certain morning she asked 
Catty to examine her drawing. I must say Catty was 
blunt — she said quite frankly she did not like it. Rhoda 
turned crimson, for another student who was near 
laughed aloud.” 

” Have you anything else to say ?” asked Margaret. 

** There is a little more. One day towards the end of 
term, Rhoda put herself in such a position that Catalina 
could not see the boarhoimd Roy. Catty was making a 
splendid drawing of him. Professor Forde came into 


TO THE RESCUE. 


279 


the room and observed poor Catty’s discomfiture. He 
immediately desired Rhoda to move back, and put Catty 
into a good position — the very one which Rhoda herself 
had just occupied. I then heard him praise Catalina’s 
drawing to the detriment of Rhoda’s.” 

“ Thank you, Dora,” said Lucy. “ I really do think 
that those circumstances are sufficient to make a girl 
like Rhoda jealous. From jealousy hatred quickly 
springs.” 

“ It seems scarcely fair,” said Annie, then, “ to suspect 
Rhoda of throwing such a dreadful crime upon poor 
Catalina.” 

“ We know nothing, of course,” said Margaret, rest- 
lessly ; we only know that Rhoda is Catty’s enemy. 
Jealousy in a character like Rhoda’s is a powerful enough 
motive to work up to almost any result. I think — yes, I 
do think — that we have to look to Rhoda for the true 
solution of this dreadful mystery.” 

“ There is one thing very much against that theory 
of yours,” said Lucy, “ and that is the simple fact that 
Rhoda is not clever enough even to copy Catty’s draw- 
ings. I don’t think Rhoda knows a single line of 
figure-drawing, and those caricatures, even though they 
are copies, are full of spirit and go. I am much afraid 
the fact of our dear Rhoda’s stupidity goes against your 
idea.” 

“ I know it does,” said Margaret, “ but in her own way 
Rhoda is clever. I cannot help feeling sure,” she added, 
“ that she is at the bottom of the mystery.” 

“ But you cannot prove your suspicions,” said Lucy. 

” No, that is just it, but if only pressure could be 
brought to bear upon her, she might confess her guilt.” 


28 o 


CATALINA. 


“ Is there anyone in all the world likely to be able to 
do that ?” asked Lucy. 

“ I don’t know, and yet — let me think. I had a long 
talk with Catty last night — I find that she holds my 
opinions with regard to Rhoda ; but under the circum- 
stances she scarcely likes, poor little thing, to talk of 
them. She told me that she met Rhoda in Manchester, 
and that Rhoda is a cousin of some very great friends 
of her rich relations, the Ellworthys — people of the 
name of Trevelyan. Having ascertained this fact from 
Catty, I spoke to Rhoda on the subjeet of the Ellworthys 
this morning, and found that I struck a chord which 
responded very quickly to my touch. She evidently 
thinks a vast deal of the Ellworthys, and confesses 
that she never was so astonished in her life as when 
she found that Catty was their relation. In par- 
ticular, Rhoda seems to have a great admiration for 
Madeline Ellworthy, who must be from her account a 
pretty child. Now Madeline almost worships Cata- 
lina — I wonder if by any possible means she could 
help us.” 

“ Go on, Margaret,” said Lucy ; “ I am certain by your 
manner that you have something more to say.” 

“ Well, I have. My wish would be this, to write and 
explain everything fully to Madeline Ellworthy.” 

But would Catalina like that ?” 

“I am afraid,” said Margaret, “we must not mind 
Catalina’s likes and dislikes in this matter. Our object 
is to clear her. If you girls consent, I will write myself 
to Madeline, giving her the full story as briefly and 
frankly as I can. I will then ask her to go and see 
Miss Trevelyan. It strikes me that it is in that direc- 


TO THE RESCUE. 


28 


tion we ought to work in order to get Rhoda to betray 
herself.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said the other girls, but they looked 
dubious and uneasy. 

” I am certain I am right,” continued Margaret : 
“ believe me, I would not for a small matter stir hand or 
foot. But for Catalina — for her art’s sake, and because 
I am so certain of her innocence, I would do much. 
Oh, yes, I will write to Miss Ellworthy to-day. A week 
is a very short time, remember — if we are to act at all we 
must act quickly.” 

“ Well,” said Lucy, rising restlessly from her chair, 
*‘you may be ri^ht, Margaret. You have plenty of 
cleverness of your own ; but it does seem a daring sort 
of thing to do, for of course you don’t know the Ell- 
worthys.” 

“That is nothing; I know Catalina. Yes, I’ll write 
my letter to-day.” 

The letter was written and arrived at Donville Square 
by the first post on the following morning. Madeline, 
bright and happy, and greatly interested in her work of 
the term just beginning, came down as usual to break- 
fast. She seized her letter, tore it open, and began to 
read it eagerly — the colour flamed into her cheeks, she 
gave a cry of excitement, and then looked up at her 
mother. 

“ My dear Madeline, what can be the matter — who is 
your correspondent, my love ?” 

“ Oh, mother,” said Madeline, “ I am so glad father 
has gone to his business. I could not really keep this 
to myself even for a moment, and you know he never 
allows me to talk or get excited at breakfast. Such 
24* 


282 


CATALINA. 


a dreadful thing has happened, mother. I have had a 
letter from a girl 1 never heard of before ; but, oh, she 
has a good excuse for writing. It is all about Catalina 
— she is accused of something dreadful — of course the 
girl thinks, and of course I know, that she is perfectly 
innocent.” 

“ Show me the letter, my dear,” said Mrs. Ellworthy. 

Madeline put it into her mother’s hands — she was 
trembling from head to foot, and the colour in her 
excitable little face was changing from white to red and 
back again to white. Mrs. Ellworthy read Madeline’s 
carefully-written letter with great attention. As she 
did so her own face flushed and her eyes shone with 
indignation. 

“ This is quite a terrible business,” she said ; “ and what 
in the world can this Margaret Ashton mean — she seems 
to think that we can help to prove dear Catty’s inno- 
cence.” 

“ Of course, mother, of course. You notice what Miss 
Ashton says with regard to that horrid Rhoda Stanford. 
Well, mother, I may as well speak out ; I never did like 
that girl, and I don’t think, in her heart of hearts, Mina 
Trevelyan does either.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Ellworthy, “ it is a very unpleasant 
business from first to last. I almost wish your father 
were present.” 

“ Oh, mother, I don’t. Much as father admires Catty, 
you know he has peculiar views on some subjects. We 
must act, and at once — oh, mother, do let us go straight 
away to the Trevelyans.” 

“ My dear, it is a very awkward thing to begin to raise 
suspicion against a girl who, after all, may be innocent.” 


TO THE RESCUE. 283 

“ But, mother, you know Catty is innocent — ^you ought 
to think of her.” 

“ I do think of her, my love.” 

“ Then in her cause ought we to leave a stone un- 
turned ? Think of her bravery and her uprightness — 
could she stoop to anything low of that sort?” 

No, my dear, she could not. I shall never forget the 
extraordinary courage of that child in attracting your 
father in the way she did. Yes, of course we must do 
something.” 

“And at once, mother, for a week will very soon 
run by, and if Catalina’s innocence is not proved by 
next Tuesday she will be expelled from the Randall 
School. If such a thing happens it will crush her for 
life.” 

“ It will be an awful blow to her,” said Mrs. Ellworthy, 
“ but I don’t think any mere earthly disaster could crush 
a spirit like Catalina’s.” 

“ Oh, yes, it could, mother, it would take something 
very fine out of her ; she would no longer look on the 
world in her old happy way. The disgrace, mother, and 
the knowing all the time that she was really innocent, 
and then the feeling that she could never carry on her 
dear, delightful life-work would worry her to death. 
Mother, don’t let us lose a moment.” 

“ We won’t, love. Really Madeline, you quite carry 
me away with your enthusiasm. It is a very early hour 
to visit the Trevelyans, but we’ll go straight and see 
them. Run upstairs, Maddie dear, and fetch my bonnet 
and cloak, and put on your own hat, dearest.” 

The little girl flew from the room, and a moment or 
two later she and her mother were going to the Trevel- 


284 


CATALTNA. 


yan’s beautiful house, which happened to be at the op- 
posite side of the same square. 

Mrs. Trevelyan and Mina had only just finished break- 
fast, and were somewhat surprised to see visitors. 

“ We would not disturb you except on a very special 
matter,” said Mrs. Ellworthy. 

“ You don’t disturb us at all,” answered Mrs. Trevel- 
yan, “we are delighted to see you and Maddie at any 
time. How is your cousin Catalina, dear Maddie ?” 

“ It is about Catalina we have come,” answered 
Madeline. 

“ In that case Mina and I will be much interested. 
We took a great fancy to her. You told me, when last 
I mentioned her name, that she was to join the Randall 
School at the beginning of term. I suppose she is there 
now.” 

“ She is,” answered Mrs. Ellworthy. “ It is on that 
very matter we have come over now to consult you. 
The fact is this, dear Catty is in imminent danger of 
being expelled from the school.” 

“ Expelled !” cried Mina. “ Catalina in danger of 
being expelled from the Randall School ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then she cannot be a bit the girl I thought her,” 
continued Mina, her face flushing up. “ To merit a 
punishment of that kind she must have done something 
wrong, something very wrong.” After an emphatic 
pause, she added, “ I don’t believe it.” 

“ It is a fact, all the same, Mina, that she is in danger 
of being expelled,” said Mrs. Ellworthy. “ But on the 
point of her innocence I have not the slightest doubt. 
Madeline received a letter from an art-student, this 


TO THE RESCUE. 285 

morning, of the name of Margaret Ashton, who also 
fully believes in Catalina’s innocence.” 

Please tell us everything, Mrs. Ellworthy,” said 
Mina. 

“ I will, but I must mention beforehand that I shall 
have something rather disagreeable to say.” 

“Never mind what it is, only just tell us the whole 
simple truth.” 

“ It is a queer story, from first to last,” said Mrs. 
Ellworthy. “ The unpleasant part for you, Mrs. Trevel- 
yan, lies in the fact that some of the art-students have 
taken up the idea that your niece, Rhoda Stanford, is 
implicated in this matter.” 

“ Oh,” exclaimed Mina. She had seated herself, but 
now she started to her feet, her face turned a vivid 
crimson. 

“Yes,” continued Mrs. Ellworthy. “You will, I am 
sure, understand that this is an awkward matter for 
me, 

“ Not at all,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, in a thoughtful 
tone. “ In a case of this kind, thorough investigations 
are bound to be made. If Rhoda has a share in the 
matter, the fact of her being my niece must not for a 
moment shield her. Only please remember, at this mo- 
ment, that Mina and I are quite in the dark. I should 
of course be sorry to accuse Rhoda of a really grave 
fault, although I believe her to be a thoughtless and 
frivolous girl, still a thing of this sort ” 

“ Mother,” cried Mina, “ do let us listen to the 
story.” 

“ I will tell it at once,” answered Mrs. Ellworthy. 

She then repeated the substance of Margaret Ashton’s 


286 


CA TALINA. 


letter, dwelling with force on the fact that Catty knew 
nothing of the piece of paper which was found in her 
bag, and that, as far as her memory could inform her, 
her caricatures of the masters had only been done in 
charcoal. 

And you say that she is firmly convinced that she 
tore up the paper on which the charcoal drawings were 
executed?” questioned Mrs. Trevelyan. 

“She seems to be positive on that point, but can 
scarcely go against the evidence of her own eyesight, 
copies of her work are not only found in her bag but on 
the master’s easels.” 

“I want to say something, mother,” cried Mina. 

“ In a moment, dear,” replied her mother. “ Just now 
give me time to think.” 

Mina fidgeted, half- rose from her seat, and then sat 
down again. Madeline, who was watching her eagerly, 
felt as if she could read her thoughts. 

“ Please tell me,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, then turning 
to Mrs. Ellworthy, “ if Miss Ashton, the girl who has 
written that letter, has any reason for supposing that 
Rhoda would practise a dastardly and cruel trick on 
Catalina.” 

“ She is supposed to be jealous of her.” 

“ But I cannot understand why. She seemed pleased 
when she met her at your house.” 

“ Nevertheless, Miss Ashton mentions that she is 
jealous.” 

“ Mother, please let me speak,” said Mina. 

“ I will, presently, my dear. You must try and re- 
member now that anything you say may be prejudicial 
either to your cousin or to Catalina Gifford. You must. 


TO THE RESCUE. 28 / 

therefore, carefully consider your words. In the mean- 
time, I have one or two other questions to ask.” 

“ Is the idea,” continued Mrs. Trevelyan, turning again 
to Mrs. Ellworthy, “that Rhoda is jealous of Catalina 
only the supposition of the girls of the Art School, or 
do they go upon facts ?” 

“ They go on a couple of facts. Catalina’s drawings 
have been much praised by the masters, to the detriment 
of Rhoda’s. Catalina gave her opinion with regard to 
Rhoda’s art very frankly on one occasion. She has 
several times been held up to Rhoda as an example by 
Professor Forde. Miss Ashton thinks that, provided she 
has not good principles, Rhoda would have enough 
motive to try to put the crime on Catalina.” 

“ This is most unpleasant,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, rising. 
“ Rhoda is rhy sister’s child, and I am naturally bound 
to uphold her. At the same time, I frankly say that I 
do not think highly of her character. I think the great 
difficulty of proving her guilty lies in the fact that she is 
not clever enough to caricature.” 

“ She may be able to copy the work of another,” said 
Mrs. Ellworthy. 

“ Even to copy a caricature would be, I fancy, beyond 
her powers. She knows nothing whatever of figure- 
drawing, and has not a scrap of humour. Indeed, I 
have often begged of her to give up art.” 

“ Now, mother, may I speak ?” said Mina. 

“ Yes, Mina, your turn has come at last.” 

“ I don’t mean to do anything to injure Rhoda. She 
is my cousin, and although I don’t care for her I will not 
be unfair. What I want to ask is this, may I go up to 
town to see her ?” 


288 


CA TALINA, 


“You, Mina! You go to London now that all your 
school work has begun ?” 

“ That is a small matter under the circumstances. I 
want to see Rhoda, I want to have a very important talk 
with her. It is my opinion — yes, I think I may say that 
— that if I can see Rhoda I may be able to clear 
Catalina.” 

“ Oh, Mina, Mina, how I love you,” said Madeline. 

“And you can tell us nothing more, Mina?” asked 
her mother. 

“ Nothing more, mother ; anything more would not 
be fair.” 

“Then, can you not write to Rhoda?” 

“That would do no good whatever. Rhoda could 
get round a letter, but she cannot get round me when I 
am face to face with her. Oh, mother, do let me go ; it 
is so important.” 

“ I don’t in the least know how it is to be managed,” 
said Mrs. Trevelyan. “ I cannot leave home just at 
present, and it is impossible for a child like you to go to 
London alone.” 

“ She shall not go alone,” said Mrs. Ellworthy, rising 
as she spoke. “ Mina shall come with Madeline and me. 
It is our bounden duty to see my husband’s niece out of 
this difficulty. We will go to town to-night, and if you 
will allow us, will take Mina with us.” 

“ Of course I cannot forbid it ; but Mina, my child, do 
be careful.” 

“ I will, mother, I will” 


GEORGE. 


289 


CHAPTER XIX. 

GEORGE. 

The Ellworthy’s and Mina went up to town by an 
afternoon train, and went straight to the Metropole. The 
two girls were in a state of keen excitement; but Mrs. 
Ellworthy begged of them not to talk any more over 
the matter. 

“ We come to town on most important business,” she 
said. “We must all of us try to remember that the 
object of our visit is justice, not mercy. If we can clear 
Catalina it is our duty to do so ; but it is equally our 
duty on no account whatever to divert suspicion to an 
innocent quarter. After you have seen your cousin, 
Mina, you will doubtless have something more to tell 
us, until then ” 

“ Even after I have seen her, I may not be able to tell 
much,” answered Mina; “ but the main thing is to have 
an interview with her, and that I hope I shall be able to 
manage the first thing in the morning.” 

Early the next day Mina asked Mrs. Ellworthy if she 
might order a hansom to take her to her cousin’s house. 

“ The time has come at last,” she said. “ I could 
scarcely sleep last night for thinking about everything.” 

“ I wish I were you,” said Madeline. “ My part in 
this, business is not nearly so exciting ; I have only to 
sit still and wait.” 

“ We’ll go and see Catalina darling, and assure her of 
N / 25 


290 


CA TALINA. 


our sympathy,” said Mrs. Ell worthy, putting her arm 
affectionately round her little daughter’s waist. 

“ Oh, thank you, thank you, mother ; that will be 
splendid.” 

“ But please do not say a word about me,” said 
Mina. 

“ Very well ; we will not breathe your name.” 

“ And now, can I order that hansom ?” 

“Yes, dear, but take good care of yourself; come 
straight back here after you have seen your cousin. 
Don’t get over-excited, and remember before all things 
justice, justice.” 

“ It is because I do remember justice that I must see 
Rhoda,” answered Mina. There was a choking sensa- 
tion in her throat, and tears were not very far from her 
eyes. This was the first time in her life that she had to 
act alone, and the task she had set herself was a really 
formidable one. She was two or three years younger 
than Rhoda, and not at all her match in cunning and 
duplicity. 

“ I’ll keep justice and Catalina Gifford’s face well be- 
fore me, and then I’ll be able to attack this horrid busi- 
ness with a will,” thought the young girl. She leant 
back in the hansom, folded her hands together, and 
stared straight before her. 

She was too excited to notice the London streets and 
the fine buildings which she quickly passed. On another 
occasion her drive would have interested her much, but 
now all her thoughts were centred elsewhere. 

Rhoda’s home was in a fashionable part of Kensing- 
ton, and the hansom drew up at the Stanfords’ hall-door 
soon after eleven o’clock. Mina jumped out, paid her 


GEORGE. 


291 


fare, and then ran up the steps. When the door was 
opened she inquired if Rhoda were at home. 

No, miss,” replied the servant, “ Miss Stanford is not 
living here at present, but I can give you her address in 
Bloomsbury if you really wish to see her.” 

” I certainly wish to see her,” replied Mina, who was 
much discomfited by this intelligence. “ Do you know 
if she lives at the Randall School of Art ?” 

“ Yes, miss, at one of the boarding-houses, Mrs. Gil- 
lespie’s. If you’ll just wait a moment I’ll run and ask 
my mistress for the exact number.” 

Will you please tell my aunt that her niece, Mina 
Trevelyan, has called and would like to see her,” said 
Mina, after a brief pause. 

The maid withdrew, and the next moment Mrs. Stan- 
ford, a fussy, good-humoured looking woman, with a 
certain likeness to Rhoda, bustled out of an adjoining 
room. She greeted Mina with curiosity and affec- 
tion. 

My dear child, what in the world has brought you 
up to town ?” 

“ I have come up on purpose to see Rhoda. I want 
to have a special talk with her,” said Mina, flushing as 
she spoke. 

‘‘ Dear me, how remarkable ; I never knew that you 
and Rhoda were such extreme friends.” 

” Where is she, please. Aunt Susan ? I want to see 
her without a moment’s delay.” 

“She does not live here just now, my love; she has 
taken the most extraordinary craze for art, not that I 
can see that she has any talent, poor child. Come in 
here, Mina, and let us have a chat ; you are really look- 


292 


CATALINA. 


ing well, and how you have grown! Where are you 
staying? Is your mother with you ?” 

“ No, mother is at Manchester. I am with the Ell- 
worthys at the Metropole.” 

“ The Manchester Ellworthys ?” 

Yes.” 

“Well, you might have let me know, you naughty 
girl. Of course, I would have given you a bed.” 

“ I could not have stayed. Aunt Susan. I have come 
up to see Rhoda, and of course want to hurry back to 
my work.” 

“ Well, you must call at Mrs. Gillespie’s. The best 
time to go is at dinner-time ; they dine at one. Perhaps 
you may manage to have a few minutes with Rhoda 
then.” 

Mina stood silent, looking perplexed. A quiet talk 
with Rhoda in her own house was, she knew, a very 
different matter from a hasty interview with her in a 
crowded boarding-house. Mina knew that Rhoda would 
be quite able to shuffle out of a difficulty under the 
latter circumstances. 

“ I wish I could have seen her at once,” she said, after 
a pause ; “ even an hour’s delay is of consequence.” 

“ Well, my dear, I cannot help you ; she would not 
thank you if you visited her at the school.” 

“ Of course not. Oh, by the way. Aunt Susan, how 
is George?” 

“ Much the same; he is never likely to be any better, 
poor fellow.” 

“ Do you think I could see him ?” 

“Yes, why not? I am sure he would like to have a 
chat with you.” 


GEORGE. 


293 


“Very well.” Mina’s face brightened. “Perhaps, 
after all, he will do nearly as well as Rhoda. Of course, 
it would be best for me to see Rhoda; but as I cannot, 
and as it is very important ” 

“ It must be to bring you up to town,” said Mrs. Stan- 
ford. “ What can be the matter ?” 

“I daren’t tell you, Aunt Susan; it is quite a se- 
cret.” 

“ All right, my love, I am the last person to spy into 
young girls’ mysteries. But may I ask, do you intend 
to confide in George ?” 

“ I cannot quite say ; I should like to see him. I 
have one or two questions I want to ask him.” 

“ Well, will I take you upstairs ?” 

Mrs. Stanford led the way and Mina followed. They 
paused on the drawing-room landing, and Mrs. Stanford 
threw open a door which led into an inner drawing- 
room. 

“ George,” she cried, “ I have brought you an unex- 
pected visitor.” As she spoke she ushered Mina into 
the room. 

On a sofa near the window a pale, dark-eyed boy was 
lying. He was .stretched out flat, and it needed but a 
glance to see that he was a confirmed invalid. When 
his mother entered the room a wave of colour rushed 
over his face, and he half raised his head, to fling it back 
the next moment with a weary gesture. 

“ Is that you, Mina ?” he said ; he held out his thin 
hand to his cousin, and Mrs. Stanford left the boy and 
girl alone. 

“ You don’t look a bit surprised to see me, George,” 
said Mina. 


25^ 


294 


CA TALINA. 


Nothing surprises me,” replied George. “Some- 
times just for a moment I get a start, for my heart is 
very weak, you know ; but nothing that could happen 
would ever surprise me.” 

“Well, that is a good thing. I have come now to 
talk to you over quite a private matter.” 

“ A private matter ; that sounds interesting. It is 
extremely difficult to really interest me in anything ; but 
confidences, really grave secrets, those sort of things 
have still a fascination. Mina, I can’t compliment you 
on your looks ; you don’t look a bit well.” 

“ I am well, but I am in a towering rage.” 

“ Are you, really ; how silly. Nothing puts me in a 
rage.” 

“ Are you no better, George ?” 

“ Better ? of course not ; I shall never be better in this 
world. That is the nice part of it ; my time of captivity 
cannot possibly last much longer.” 

“ Oh, Geordie, I am so sorry,” replied Mina. She 
dropped on her knees by her cousin’s couch, and tried 
to take one of his hands. 

“ Never mind that sort of thing, Mina,” he answered, 
pushing her away from him ; “ I hate being coddled and 
fussed over and pitied. I am going soon to have a much 
better time than Rhoda or you, or anybody else. I have 
no end of curiosity with regard to the future ; the future 
beyond this life, I mean ; but all things connected with 
this stupid old world have ceased to interest me.” 

“ Have you given up your drawing ?” 

“ Not yet; that amuses me now and then.” 

“ Please show me some of your last sketches.” Mina’s 
voice quite shook as she spoke. 


GEORGE. 295 

“ Do you care about them ? I never knew you had 
the slightest love for art.” 

“ I have begun to love it lately ; some people of whom 
I am fond are much interested in it.” 

“ Some people of whom you are fond — you don’t mean 
that old humbug of a Rhoda ?” 

“ No, indeed ; I have known her all my life ; there’s 
nothing fresh about her to interest me.” 

“ How polite you are, Mina, to say that of your own 
cousin ; never mind, she is my sister, and I frankly agree 
with you. She is an awful old humbug, is she not ?” 

“ Well, Geordie, it does not do for me to abuse her.” 

“ I don’t mind abusing her a bit. It is such fudge, her 
going to the Randall School. I tell her so, and she can’t 
bear me to laugh at her.” 

” How different you are, Geordie,” said Mina, “ if you 
had strength, you would be a great artist.” 

“ That is true,” replied the boy, a beautiful colour 
flushing into his delicate face. “ Life would be worth 

living then, but as it is Oh, I fiddle away, but I 

cannot manage much.” 

Do show me your work.” 

” I won’t until you tell me what you want to see it for ?” 

“ I can’t, George ; it is something important ; won’t 
you believe me ?” 

“ You look frightfully in earnest, Mina ; it tires me 
even to look at your face. Well, well, I suppose I must 
yield. Haul over that big portfolio; you can open it 
here; you may pull out the case; the drawings are 
mostly caricatures.” 

“ Caricatures,” said Mina, with a leap at her heart. 

Do you really go in for that sort of drawing ?” 


296 


CA TALINA. 


“ Of late I have ; it is such fun. I make the mother 
and Rhoda sit up, I can tell you. I do them in every 
sort of attitude ; then I pin up my attempts on the wall, 
and when father comes in, in the evening, he is fit to 
die with laughing. I always manage the likeness, you 
see.” 

“ It must be amusing,” said Mina. “ May I see some?” 

^‘Yes, it will interest me to show them to you; but 
after all, the best caricatures are not in the portfolio. Go 
to that table over there, lift up those stupid old diction- 
aries, and you will find my drawing-book ; pull it out 
and bring it over here. Ah, here we are.” 

Notwithstanding his cynicism, the young artist was 
really interested in his own clever sketches, and Mina 
could not help laughing heartily at his excellent por- 
trayals of good-humoured Mrs. Stanford and affected 
Rhoda in all sorts of attitudes and characters. 

” Here, this is Rhoda in her last new dress,” he said ; 
“ you know the kind of little perk she puts on when she 
thinks she is particularly fascinating ; this is Rhoda ex- 
amining her last bangle ; this is Rhoda horribly jealous, 
because somebody else is doing better work than herself.” 

“ But who is this ?” asked Mina ? “ what a clever caric- 
ature ! I did not know that you knew any professors, 
George.” 

“ Nor do I ; this is a copy which I took from another 
caricature ; by the way, it is, I am told, a capital likeness 
of Professor Forde of the Randall School.” 

“ But you have never seen him ?” 

No ; it is done from a copy.” 

“ A copy,” said Mina, turning pale ; who gave you 
the copy, George ?” 


GEORGE. 297 

“ Rhoda, of course ; she brought back some sketches 
one day from school.” 

“ Oh,” cried Mina, “ do tell me everything.” 

“What can be the matter, Mina; how white you have 
turned.” 

“ It is most important,” said Mina ; “ it is vital ; do try 
and remember exactly what happened.” 

“ If you will only stand off a little, and not flash your 
big eyes at me — I hate girls with flashing eyes — I’ll try 
and tell you what I know.” 

George covered his face for a moment with one of his 
thin hands. 

“ I have it now,” he said. “ It happened a good bit 
back, some time towards the middle of last term. Rhoda 
came in one day in an awful rage. It turned out that she 
had been roundly scolded by one of the professors — this 
very Forde chap. Don’t fidget so, Mina. I can’t tell my 
story in such a frightful hurry. I asked her what was 
up. I generally call her Humpty-dumpty, because she 
has got such a pasty sort of face. 

“ ‘ What’s up now, Humpty-dumpty,’ said I ; and then 
she muttered, and stormed, and finally burst out with 
it. The professors were unfair, they were prejudiced. 
They always upheld other girls and abused her. In par- 
ticular, there was a horrid little dark girl — a sort of 
sneak. She said her name was Gifford. Well, Gifford 
was always puffed up to the disadvantage of poor 
Humpty-dumpty. I asked to see the precious work 
which was not appreciated. Well, Mina, it was poor 
work; shaky and groggy, and no life in it anywhere. 
So I said, ‘ What can you expect when you do rubbish 
of that sort ?’ She was wild, poor old girl. Only that I 


298 


CA TALINA. 


am an invalid, and invalids must be respected, she would 
have flown at me. Then she said, all of a sudden, * If 
you think that work so stupid, what do you think of 
this ?’ and then she opened a paper and showed me some 
bold caricatures done in charcoal. She told me they 
were of the professors. I never saw anything so life-like 
and funny ; I could not help screaming with laughter. 

“ ‘ You have never done those ?’ I said. 

Yes. Indeed I have, she answered. 

** ^ Well, then, you do deserve to get a little praise,’ I 
said. ‘ Why, we have never half appreciated you. You 
are a genius, after all.’ 

‘ Am I ?’ she said, looking delighted. 

“ ‘ I should think so. Here, give me those sketches.’ 

“ ' What do you want them for ?’ she asked. 

“ ‘ I want to copy them this moment into my sketch- 
book. Why, they are splendid. Rhoda, my dear, you’ll 
be a contributor to Punch some day. You’ll be a lot 
better than Harry Furniss, or Du Maurier, or any of 
those old chaps.’ 

“ She did look pleased. I copied the charcoal draw- 
ings into my book there and then. Why, Mina, what is 
the matter ? Are you glad, too, that our Rhoda is to be 
a genius ?” 

I want to hear the rest,” said Mina, breathlessly. 

“Well, it is soon told. When I had copied the 
sketches, she took the charcoal drawings away. I 
warned her not to let any one see them at the school. I 
assured her she would get into no end of a row. That 
fact seemed to strike her, and she asked me what would 
be done. 

“ ' You would be expelled,’ I said. ' What would the 


GEORGE, 299 

fact of your talent matter ? If there’s one thing a pro- 
fessor can’t stand it is being turned into ridicule.* 

“ ‘ But if I am so very clever, will they not rejoice in 
my talent ?’ she inquired. 

“ ‘ Not a bit of it,’ I replied. ‘ You don’t suppose they 
think more of you than they do of themselves. That 
would not be human nature.’ 

“She thought a good bit of that, with her cheek 
resting on her hand. I sketched her in that attitude. 
Here she is.’’ 

“ Geordie. What a funny boy you are,’’ said Mina, 
who, notwithstanding her anxieties, could not help 
laughing. “ Well, have you anything more to tell me ?’’ 

“ Only this. I was anxious two or three weeks after- 
wards to get father to get me a new Kodac — quite an 
extraordinarily nice one — it would cost five pounds. 
Rhoda found out that I wanted it, and she said she could 
coax the money out of father if I would do something 
for her.*’ 

“ And did you do it ?’’ 

“Yes.’’ 

“ And what was it, Geordie ?’* 

“ Oh, nothing much — I never could make out what 
she wanted it for, though. She asked me to outline the 
professors’ caricatures on tracing-paper for her. As I 
wanted my Kodac in a frightful hurry I was not long 
doing what she wished. She caught up the tracings, 
thanked me, and a moment or two later brought me 
back a crisp five-pound note. She is a girl to get things 
out of father — he would not have given me that money 
without a power of worry. Well, now, is there anything 
else?” 


300 


CA TALINA. 


** I don’t think so to-day.” 

“That’s a relief. Now please put the sketch-book 
back exactly where you found it. What! are you 
going?” 

“ After I have said something.” 

“ I do hope it is not too exciting, Mina — please re- 
member my state of health.” 

“ Oh, Geordie dear, I do, — ^but perhaps that’s just the 
reason why you will help me.” 

“ Help you ? I am the most useless chap on earth. 
Helping people is not at all my forte.” 

“ Well, it happens to be on this occasion. You would 
like to do something really great before you die, would 
not you ?” 

“ I don’t know, I am sure. Well, out with your re- 
quest whatever it is.” 

“ I have something to tell you first. Rhoda never did 
those charcoal drawings.” 

“Oh, come now, Mina, I like that. Why should she 
tell a lie about them ?” 

“ She never did them : they were not her work.” 

“ Are you certain ?” 

“ Positive. I can prove it to your complete satisfac- 
tion.” 

“ Oh, don’t bother about proof I’ll take your word 
for it. I always did think they were twenty times too 
clever for her. Anything else ?” 

“ They were the work of another girl.” 

“ Well, I suppose so ; they must have been done by 
somebody. Who was the girl ?” 

“ I won’t mention her name yet. They were the work 
of this girl ; and Rhoda — she stole them for her own 


G£OHG£. 3 ^^ 

purposes — the other girl has got into dreadful trou- 
ble.” 

“ How so?” 

“ Because, George, Rhoda — Rhoda has done a shabby, 
a disgraceful, a terrible thing.” 

“ Oh, my goodness ! how many more adjectives ? Do 
go straight ahead. How like a girl you are.” 

“ I am a girl, and an angry one. Now, I will tell you 
my story. At the end of last term some caricatures 
were found on the professors’ easels. They were exact 
copies of these” — Mina pointed to the spirited drawings 
in George’s book. “The professors were very angry, 
and they made a great fuss about the matter. A few 
days ago, the first day of term, the sin was brought 
home to a girl in the school, Catalina Gifford — about the 
cleverest student in the school.” 

“ What, the little gipsy that Rhoda can’t bear ?” 

“ The same. I wish you knew her, George — she is a 
splendid girl, and has the most beautiful face I ever saw. 
She is accused of having drawn the caricatures, and 
unless she can prove her innocence by next Tuesday, 
she is to be expelled from the school.” 

“ You don’t say so. What a thundering shame !” 

George was really excited and interested at last. 

“ But I am quite sure now,” continued Mina, “ that I 
know enough to clear her. What I want you to do, 
George, is this : When you are asked, stick to the story 
you have just told me.” 

“ Stick to it — of course I shall. You don’t suppose I 
am the sort of fellow to go back on my word.” 

“ No, but please remember that you will get your 
sister into terrible trouble.” 

2O 


302 


cataXina. 


“ I begin to see what you are driving at, Mina. You 
don’t mean to say that Rhoda — Rhoda ” 

“Yes, I do,” said Mina, nodding. 

“ Good gracious !” 

“ You’ll stick to what you have just told me, George ?’’ 

“ Rather; you need not fear.’’ 

“ Then you are a brave darling,’’ said Mina. She 
stooped and kissed her cousin on his forehead. 

He was very angry, and rubbed the spot hard ; but 
that did not matter at all to Mina, who had flown from 
the room. 


CHAPTER XX. 

MRS Gillespie’s boarding-house. 

The excited girl drove straight off to the Randall 
School. Her hansom drew up at Mrs. Gillespie’s house, 
and she eagerly inquired for her cousin, Rhoda Stan- 
ford. She was here met by very discomfiting intelligence. 
Rhoda was unwell — was supposed to have influenza, and 
no one was allowed to see her. This was indeed a foil. 

“What shall I do?’’ thought Mina to herself. She 
scribbled a little note which was sent up to her cousin. 
“ Try and get well as fast as possible,’’ wrote Mina. “ I 
want to see you on a most important matter.’’ 

This note was conveyed to Rhoda’s sick-room. She 
was flushed and had a headache, but in no other way 
was specially ill. She eagerly seized the note ; and when 
she had read it began to feel rather uncomfortable. Why 


MA^S. GILLESPIE'S BOARDING-HOUSE. 303 

was Mina in town? and why did she want to see her? 
What could the important matter be ? 

Up to the present, Rhoda had not'been specially sorry 
for what she had done ; but Mina’s note made her think 
of Catalina in the queerest, most insistent way, and she 
began to be nervous. She tried to recall everything she 
had said to Mina during her visit in the summer. Yes, 
she had certainly told her cousin something about the 
caricatures ; she had also given her to understand that 
she herself was a proficient in that dangerous art. Sup- 
pose Mina had come to town on that business ? But no, 
it really was impossible. In the first place, how could 
she have heard anything about it ? In the next, even if 
she had would she be likely to care ? 

‘‘ Dear, dear, I hope there is not going to be any 
serious fuss,” thought the wicked girl. “ Of course when 
I began all this I had no thought whatever of injuring 
Catalina ; but to save myself I was obliged to throw the 
blame on her, and now of course I must stick to the 
thing to the bitter end. After all, there cannot be the 
least chance of my being found out. Mina probably 
wants to see me on quite another matter. There are one 
or two things which I let out in a silly moment, which 
she might possibly use against me ; but no one in the 
world is really in a position to expose me except poor 
old George ; and as to George doing anything, the mere 
idea is too absurd. Well, I shall be glad when this 
horrid week is out. The other girls are specially dis- 
agreeable to me. I had no idea that tiresome little Cata- 
lina was such a favourite. I almost begin to wish I had 
not returned to the school.” 

Mina’s disquieting note was not good for Rhoda’s 


304 


CA TALINA. 


state of health, and she tossed about on her hot bed, and 
wished that the influenza had not attacked her at such a 
critical moment. 

By the evening’s post a letter arrived which by no 
means added to her feelings of comfort; it was from her 
brother George, and was specially short. 

“ Dear Rhoda,” he wrote, “ I have been having a very 
straight talk with Mina Trevelyan about you. I have 
promised her that if necessary I will speak up for the 
truth. I often thought you were something of a humbug, 
but now I regard you as also a sneak. — Your disgusted 
brother George.” 

When Rhoda read this letter she turned white as a 
sheet. 

Then there was something up ! Mina had got hold 
of George and George had revealed the truth to her. 
Of course, if he liked, George could make most serious 
mischief. Rhoda was now seriously alarmed. She slept 
very little that night, and in the morning was heavy-eyed 
and weak. When the doctor came to see her he said 
that all feverishness had gone, but that she was weak, 
and he would order her a tonic. 

“You are more pulled down,” he said “than your 
slight attack warrants. Is anything worrying you ?” 

“ Oh, no,” she answered, with a toss of her head. “ I 
suppose it would not do for me to go back to school for 
a few days ?” 

“ No, you had better stay in your room for a day or 
two longer. After an attack of this sort, one cannot be 
too careful.” 

On reflection, Rhoda was pleased on hearing that she 
might consider herself a prisoner. 


M/^S. GILLESPIE^ S BOARDING-HOUSE. 305 

“ It is just as well that I should not be present when 
poor Catty is expelled/’ she said to herself. “ I don’t 
see that Mina can do much, unless she has an interview 
with me. I am probably alarming myself considerably 
without just cause. Yes, if I can manage to stay quietly 
in my room until Tuesday is over, I think I shall keep 
out of this horrid scrape.” 

Having made up her mind, Rhoda then proceeded to 
make herself as comfortable as circumstances would per- 
mit. She wrote to Mrs. Stanford to beg for a parcel of 
yellow-backed novels and two or three boxes of mixed 
chocolates. As Mrs. Stanford always did exactly as her 
daughter wished, this request was attended to immedi- 
ately, and Rhoda sat by her fire and munched chocolates 
and read novels during the whole of the day. 

In this way she was able to keep troublesome thoughts 
at a distance, and by no means disliked her solitary 
time. 

Meanwhile, poor Mina was nearly wild with anxiety. 
She had determined not to tell what she knew to the 
Ellworthys. She knew a great deal, but not quite all. 
In order to be quite sure of clearing Catalina, she must 
see Rhoda herself 

“ What does the influenza matter ?” she said to Mrs. 
Ellworthy. “ My whole visit to town will be wasted 
if I cannot have an interview with Rhoda before the 
23d.” 

“ But is an interview with Rhoda the only thing that 
can save Catalina ?” asked Mrs. Ellworthy. 

“ Yes, I believe it is.” 

“ Don’t you think, Mina, you might confide in me ?” 
would much rather see Rhoda, Mrs. Ellworthy. 
w 26* 


306 CATALINA. 

Of course, if I don’t, and the very last moment comes 
Oh, but I must not think of that.” 

Poor Mina really looked ill. Even Madeline did not 
fret over Catalina as badly as Mina did. 

Madeline does not know the worst,” murmured the 
poor girl ; “ it is my cousin who has done the shabby, the 
disgraceful thing. If I could only see Rhoda I would 
insist on her making a full confession. Oh, I feel ter- 
rible. See her I will, see her I must.” 

When Monday evening arrived, a great gloom hung 
over Mrs. Gillespie’s house. The week was nearly up, 
and Catalina had not been able to make the slightest dis- 
covery with regard to the guilty person. All the girls 
knew her story, and were full of sympathy and excite- 
ment ; some of course fearing that she might be guilty, 
but the greater part stoutly maintaining her innocence. 

She was running downstairs on this evening, when she 
came face to face with Mina Trevelyan. She started, and 
coloured painfully. Had Mina heard everything; did 
she or did she not believe in her guilt ? 

“ How are you. Miss Gifford ?” said Mina, holding 
out her hand, and speaking in an affectionate tone. 
“ Do you happen to know how my cousin, Rhoda, is ?” 

“ No, only that she is still in her room,” replied Cata- 
lina. Perhaps Dr. Blunt will tell you ; I see him 
coming downstairs.” 

“ The doctor who attends her ? That is capital,” said 
Mina. I must speak to him at once.” 

Catalina ran on, and Mina went up the stairs to meet 
the doctor. 

“ Are you attending my cousin, Rhoda Stanford ?” she 
asked. 


MJ^S. GILLESPIE'S BOARDING-HOUSE. 307 

“ Yes,” he replied. 

” Then, please, sir, may I speak to you ?” 

“ Certainly,” answered the doctor. He opened the 
door of a small room on the drawing-room landing. 

“Your cousin has had a slight attack of influenza,” 
he said. “You need not be at all anxious about her. 
If you have anything special to say, will you come in 
here ?” 

Mina entered. 

“ I want to ask if RhodaVs well enough for me to see 
her. I want to talk to her ^out something of vital im- 
portance,” said the little girl. 

“ Certainly you can see her,” replied the doctor. 
“ Anyone may see her after she has taken a bath.” 

“ Then, may I go to her now ?” 

“ It would not be wise for you to go to her room ; 
that of course is full of infection. The fact is, I gave 
Miss Stanford permission to come downstairs on Sun- 
day, but she did not avail herself of it.” 

“ And this is Monday, Monday evening. I must see 
her to-night.” 

The doctor smiled. 

“ Won’t to-morrow morning do ?” he asked. 

“ No, sir ; it would not be safe to leave it until then. 
Oh, Dr. Blunt, if only you would help me.” 

“ You seem very much in earnest,” said the doctor. 
“ If you have anything to confide, pray do so as quickly 
as possible.” 

“ I will tell you then. There is a girl in the Randall 
School, a very nice girl, Catalina Gifford is her name. 
To-morrow something dreadful is going to be done to 
her, a crime has been brought to her door of a grave 


3o8 


CATALINA. 


nature, and she is to be expelled from the school. She 
is the cleverest art student in the school, and yet she is to 
be expelled; all her life that stigma will cling to her. 
Now, I know a person who can prove that she is not 
guilty, and that person is my cousin, Rhoda Stanford.” 

“ Indeed,” said Dr. Blunt, “ this is interesting.” 

“It is more than interesting to Catalina. You don’t 
know what a splendid girl she is. There is terrible cir- 
cumstantial evidence against her, and Rhoda can save 
her ; but only — only if I can see Rhoda to-night.” 

“ I understand,” said the doctor. “ Will you leave 
this matter with me, and sit down quietly where you 
are ; I shall have news for you in a moment or two.” 

He left the room as he spoke. 

Mina waited with a palpitating heart. The moments 
seemed weighted with lead ; she wondered what was 
going to happen. At the end of half an hour the room 
door was flung open, and Dr. Blunt’s smiling face peeped 
in. 

“ I have managed all right for you, little girl,” he 
said. “ This way, please, Miss Stanford ; you will find 
your cousin here.” 

Rhoda, looking angry, flushed, and disturbed, stalked 
into the room. The doctor shut the door behind the 
two. 

“ Well, Mina, pray tell me what is the meaning of all 
this fuss,” said Rhoda. “ What in the world do you 
want to see me for ? Why was I dragged out of my 
room, and forced into a horrid bath, and brought down- 
stairs by that disagreeable, interfering doctor? What 
can be the meaning of it? You are as red as a turkey 
cock. Now, what do you want me for ? What is up ?” 


MRS. GILLESPIE'S BOARDING-HOUSE. 309 

“ Y ou’ll know soon enough,” said Mina. Rhoda, I 
have found out all the true story of the caricatures.” 

“ The true story of the caricatures,” began Rhoda. 
She tried to laugh, but she turned white. 

“Yes, I know everything: I went to see George, and 
he told me.” 

“ Oh, George ; as if anyone minded what a boy like 
George would say.” 

“ Rhoda, there is no use in your talking in that silly 
way. I know the whole truth. You did a very dread- 
ful thing when you tried to ruin Catalina — a very dread- 
ful thing for Catalina, and a still worse thing for yourself. 
You never guessed, I suppose, that Catalina had plenty 
of friends. Some of her friends wrote to the Ellworthys 
of Manchester, and the Ellworthys came and talked to 
mother and me ; and then I remembered something you 
had said about certain caricatures, and I came to town 
to find out more ; and when I could not see you, I had 
an interview with George, and George told me everything. 
You had found poor Catalina’s charcoal drawings, and 
you had brought them home and shown them to George 
as your own work. Afterwards, you asked him to make 
copies of the caricatures on tracing paper. What you 
did with the tracing paper I can guess, although I am 
not sure. Now, I wish to say that unless you tell me 
the whole truth from beginning to end, I shall go to the 
Randall School to-morrow, and tell exactly what I know. 
George is too ill to go with me, but I have no doubt 
that Professor Forde will go to see him if necessary, in 
order to confirm my story. You see, Rhoda, that you 
may as well tell the truth ; for in any case you will be 
brought in guilty.” 


310 


CA TALINA. 


You mean,” said Rhoda, after a pause, that you will 
really do what you say ?” 

Yes,” said Mina, “ if you don’t speak, and tell the 
truth, I shall.” 

” But you are my cousin. Cousins don’t get each 
other into disgrace.” 

‘‘ If I were fifty times your cousin, I would not allow 
Catalina to be ruined for life.” 

Catalina again,” muttered Rhoda. What is there 
about that wretched girl that makes you all fall in love 
with her?” 

“ Nothing, except that she is brave and true. Oh, 
Rhoda, how could you do it, how could you think of 
this horrible, this cruel plot to ruin her?” 

‘‘I did not at all mean to injure her when I did it,” 
said Rhoda, startled into admitting the truth. “At first 
— oh, I suppose, I may go on now, and let out the whole 
thing — at first, Mina, I had no more thought of injuring 
Catalina than I had of injuring you. The professors all 
hated me, and I determined to play a practical joke at 
their expense. Then, when I saw that it was becoming 
formidable, I got frightened, and it seemed easy enough 
to shift the blame on to Catalina. I did it. Once done, 
I had to stick to it, you understand.” 

“ I suppose I do. I suppose when you begin doing 
wrong you cannot help doing worse, and getting your- 
self deeper and deeper into the most horrid and terrible 
treachery.” 

“ Well, yes, I suppose so.” Rhoda sat down as she 
spoke. “ I wonder,” she said, after a pause, as Mina was 
quite silent, “ what you propose to do now that you have 
dragged the truth out of me ?” 


M/^S. GILLESPIE^ S BOARDING-HOUSE. 31I 

“ What I propose to do ?” said Mina. It is you that 
have to do the thing, Rhoda.” 

“ I am not going to do anything.” 

Yes, you must. You must do exactly what I tell 
you.” 

And pray what is that ?” 

** Sit down and write a confession to Professor 
Forde.” 

“What next?” said Rhoda. “You cannot mean what 
you say, Mina.” 

“ I do ; the only other alternative is that I go to the 
Randall School to-morrow and tell what I know; then 
you’ll be sent for, and you’ll have to confess your guilt 
in the presence of the whole school.” 

“ Oh, anything but that,” said Rhoda. Her face 
turned pale, her hand shook. 

“ I have been ill ; this is dreadfully bad for me,” she 
moaned. 

“ It would be worse for poor Catty if she were to be 
expelled, for a crime she never committed, to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ I hate Catalina Gifford,” muttered Rhoda. 

“ Whether you hate her or not, you must confess the 
whole truth now, and in writing. Here is paper and 
here are pens and ink. Sit down and begin.” 

“ I declare, Mina, I don’t know you.” 

“ I dare say not, I am desperate,” said Mina. “ Now 
seat yourself, Rhoda, and begin to write.” 

“ When I have written this odious, horrible letter, I 
suppose I may go away ?” 

“You may do anything you like, as far as I am 
concerned.” 


312 


CA TALINA. 


** Mother had better take me abroad. I cannot stay 
in England after this.” 

Mina was silent. 

** Why don’t you speak ; have you got nothing to 
say ?” 

** Nothing, except to insist on your doing your duty.” 

‘‘Well, then, here goes.” Rhoda dipped her pen into 
the ink. “ What am I to say ?” she asked. 

“ The truth, Rhoda ; tell Professor Forde the truth.” 

“ Dear Professor Forde,” began Rhoda, then she 
dashed down her pen, and faced round upon her cousin. 

“ How can I write this sort of thing? You put too 
difficult a task on me. I’d rather be silent, and take the 
consequences.” 

“ Very well. Then, to-morrow you’ll be sent for, and 
you’ll have to tell before the whole school.” 

“ Oh, anything but that. I shudder at the look which 
I am certain to see in Margaret Ashton’s eyes. And 
Lucy Gray will also gloat over me, and that horrid little 
Gifford girl will be petted, and praised, and cheered. 
Oh, anything but that. Whatever happens. I’ll not be 
there.” 

“ Then write, Rhoda, and be quick about it.” 

“ But I don’t know what to say.” 

“ I’ll dictate the letter to you.” 

“ I wish you would.” 

“ Write this, Rhoda : Dear Professor Forde, I am the 
person who sketched the caricatures on your easel and 
on Professor Johnson’s and Mr. Fortesque’s. I found 
some charcoal drawings of Catalina Gifford’s on the 
floor, and picked them up and brought them home. 
My brother copied them for me on tracing paper. I 


M/^S. GILLESPIE'S BOARDING-HOUSE. 313 

did not tell him what I wanted them for. I brought 
them back to the school. One evening I was alone in 
the studio, and I was able, by means of the tracing 
paper, to make pen and ink sketches from Catalina’s 
caricatures on the different easels. That is the story.” 

Rhoda, who had hastily dashed down the words 
which her cousin had dictated, now looked up with a 
flushed face. 

“This is a pretty kind of thing,” she exclaimed. “A 
nice exhibition I am making of myself Anything more, 
Mina?” 

“You can add anything more you like.” 

Rhoda glanced through her letter. 

“ After all, it may as well go as it is,” she said. “ I’ll 
just sign it. Here, I suppose you’ll do what you like 
with it now.” 

Mina read the letter carefully over. 

“ It is bad,” she said ; “ but at least it is clear, and it 
completely exonerates Catalina. Now, Rhoda, please, 
direct this envelope.” 

Rhoda directed it to Professor Forde, Randall School 
of Art, and Mina slipped it into her pocket. 

“ Now I wonder what you are going to do ?” asked 
Rhoda. 

“ I am going straight to Professor Forde’s house, to 
put this into his letter-box.” 

“ You have no thought for me, you wretched girl.” 

“At present I have no kind thoughts towards you, 
Rhoda. Perhaps by and by I shall be sorry. If only 
— only you would be sorry for yourself If only you 
could really feel how dreadfully you have behaved !” 

“For goodness’ sake, don’t begin to preach, Mina; 

27 


o 


3^4 


CATALINA. 


that will just be the final straw. Good-bye. I suppose 
you think yourself a very clever girl, and I suppose for 
that matter you are. My kind regards to that precious 
Catalina of yours. For my part, I hope never to see her 
again.” 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE LUCKIEST GIRL. 

Having delivered her letter, Mina Trevelyan went 
back to the hotel where the Ellworthys were staying, 
and kept her secret to herself. 

“ They will know time enough,” she reflected. Mat- 
ters are sure to be quite safe now, and dear little Catty 
will be saved.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes 
very bright, and smiles of happiness played round her 
lips. Mrs. Ellworthy and Madeline both remarked 
these. 

I am sure you have good news,” said Madeline. 
“And I think you might tell me.” 

“Yes, I have very good news,” answered Mina; “but 
I would rather not say anything about it until to- 
morrow. I think, perhaps,” she added, “ that we might 
all go to the Randall School to-morrow.” 

“ What ? To witness Catty’s disgrace ?” 

Mina coloured. 

“ I think we might go,” she said, after a pause. “ I 
should like it for one.” 

“ It is a good idea,” said Mrs. Ellworthy. “ At the 
worst, dear Catty will want us to help her. If the pro- 


THE LUCKIEST GIRL. 


315 


fessors are so dreadfully unjust as to believe that that 
dear child is guilty, I at least will show that I do not 
believe it. We will take Catty back with us to Man- 
chester, and thus our own friends will know what we 
think about her.” 

That is a capital idea, mother,” said Madeline. “ Oh, 
how earnestly I wish to-morrow would come. I really 
feel that I cannot live much longer in this terrible state 
of suspense.” 

The evening passed somehow, and by and by the 
long-wished-for morning arrived. 

There was much excitement at the Randall School. 
From one studio to another the news of Catty’s disgrace 
and of the trial through which she was to pass had 
flown. The students had formed themselves into sides 
for and against Catalina. Some fully believed in her 
innocence, but a large number were inclined to consider 
her guilty. Her name was on every lip. Boys and girls 
alike talked a great deal about her. Her beauty, her 
talent; the terrible cloud which hung over her were 
discussed eagerly from tongue to tongue. Was she 
going to be expelled? Was her career as an artist 
about to be ruined? What would Professor Forde 
really do? Above all things, was she guilty? Was 
she innocent ? 

The professors appeared as usual. They hurried the 
students into their different class-rooms, and the ordi- 
nary work of the morning began. The girls who be- 
longed to the Animal School of Painting took their 
places behind their easels. A splendid race-horse was 
brought in as the model for the morning’s work. At 
another time this beautiful creature would have raised 


3i6 


CATALINA. 


quite a storm of enthusiasm ; but the horse was scarcely 
looked at to-day. Other thoughts occupied every mind. 
When would Catalina appear ? What would happen to 
her when she did? Would her friends rally round her? 
Would the professor really expel her from school ? 

These were the questions which each girl asked out 
of her eyes or formed on her lips ; the whole school was 
full of Catty. For good or for evil, she was the one 
heroine of the hour. 

Presently the studio door was opened, and Catalina, in 
a somewhat dowdy frock, her face pale and her eyelids 
lowered, softly entered the room. She went straight to 
her place beside her easel, and taking up a charcoal began 
with rapid strokes to sketch in an outline of the splendid 
horse. Her work had never been better ; she did not 
glance at any of her companions. 

“ She seems to know that she may not have another 
chance,” said one girl to another. Catty was eagerly 
sketching in the horse’s head ; the eye of the noble 
creature looked full of subdued fire. 

How splendidly she does it,” said another student, 
peeping over the little girl’s shoulder. 

At that moment Professor Forde appeared, and with 
him Mrs. Ellworthy, Madeline, and Mina. 

*‘Who can they be?” whispered the girls one to 
another ; but Catalina did not raise her eyes. 

There came a solemn sort of hush. Professor Forde, 
having supplied the ladies with seats, went himself to a 
raised platform which stood at one end of the long room. 
Here the three easels with the caricatures were placed. 
The professor stepped on to the platform, and facing ab- 
ruptly round encountered the eager eyes of the students 


THE LUCKIEST GIRL. 


317 


all turned to face him. Catalina alone kept on sketch- 
ing, her nervous fingers were full of the inward fire which 
was consuming her ; she felt as if she were working in a 
sort of purgatory ; there were buzzing noises in her ears, 
her eyes could scarcely see. All the same, her fingers 
felt inspired, they never made a wrong stroke ; the horse 
seemed to grow in life and beauty under her skilful ma- 
nipulation. 

“ Catalina Gifford,” said Professor Forde’s voice. 

The charcoal fell from Catty’s nervous fingers. She 
turned round, her pale face became suffused with crimson. 

“ Catalina Gifford, I have something to tell you,” con- 
tinued the professor. “ Will you come up here, and let 
me. speak to you before the whole school ?” 

A girl stretched out her hand to help Catty, several 
eyes were fixed upon her full of wondering pity, and yet 
all through the school the professor’s words seemed also 
to inspire a sort of hope. 

Catalina went up to the platform, and the professor 
took her hand. 

“I have something to tell you, my dear pupil,” he 
said, something which gives me, on your account, ab- 
solute pleasure, but on account of another girl pain. 
The pleasure is caused by this: I have heard news 
which completely and absolutely exonerates you from 
all blame.” 

Here his words were interrupted by a perfect storm 
of cheers, handkerchiefs waved in the air, feet were 
stamped loudly on the floor. Whatever the girls thought 
beforehand they were all now on Catalina’s side. 

My dear pupils, pray restrain your emotions,” con- 
tinued the professor. “ I must beg you to give me your 

27* 


318 


CA TALINA. 


careful attention for the next few minutes. Catalina 
spoke the simple truth when she told us what had oc- 
curred with regard to the caricatures this day week. In 
a reckless moment she sketched likenesses of myself and 
my brother professors, but with no thought of doing us 
an injury or exposing us to the least breath of ridicule. 
That work was left to the cruel machinations of another 
girl. Catalina is absolutely without blame in the matter ; 
but I much regret to have to add that as another girl has 
acted so badly there is nothing whatever for me to do 
but to expel her from the school. I allude to Rhoda 
Stanford, who has written me a confession, which I will 
now proceed to read aloud.” 

The professor took Rhoda’s letter from his pocket. 

“ I am the person who sketched the caricatures on 
your easel,” he read. ” I found some charcoal drawings 
of Catalina Gifford’s on the floor, I picked them up and 
brought them home. My brother copied them for me 
on tracing paper. He did not know what I wanted to 
do with them. One evening I was alone in the studio, 
and with the help of the tracing paper I was able to 
make pen and ink sketches from Catalina’s caricatures 
on your easel, on the different easels. I did it partly 
for fun and partly to spite Catalina. That is the 
story.” 

The professor threw the letter on the floor and looked 
down the room. 

There were no cheers this time, but the girl’s faces 
looked dark and their eyes flashed with indignation. 

“ We will turn from this unpleasant subject,” he said. 
” Catalina Gifford, I am glad to be able to acknowledge 
your innocence in the face of the whole school ; this let- 


THE LUCKIEST GIRL. 


319 


ter, painful as it is in itself, abundantly clears you from 
the least shadow of blame. Now I have one last word 
to say before we resume our work. The Randall Schol- 
arship will of course be competed for this session, and, 
Catalina, I will enter your name amongst the competi- 
tors. I shall also be glad if you will do me the honour 
to come to see me at my house this evening. I am 
anxious to have a long talk with you, for I am much in- 
terested in your Art career.” 

“ Three cheers for Catalina. We always knew Catty 
was innocent!” burst now from the excited girls. 

I will leave you for a few moments,” said the profes- 
sor, smiling. “ When I return I hope you will all have 
composed yourselves and be able to resume your duties. 
In the meanwhile, Catalina, I think some of your friends 
are waiting to speak to you.” 

Yes, Catty, I did not dare to come to you before,” 
said her aunt. “ My dear child, how happy I am, how 
glad we all are !” 

** I declare. Catty, this is the very proudest moment 
of my life,” said Madeline. 

‘‘And it would be of mine,” remarked Mina, “if 
I were not so unfortunate as to own Rhoda as my 
cousin.” 

“Well, never mind that now, Mina,” said Madeline. 
“ But for you we should never have discovered the 
truth. Catty, you must love Mina all your life, for she 
simply forced the facts of the case out of that horrid 
Rhoda.” 

“ After the professor’s invitation, you, Catalina, are 
made for life,” said Margaret Ashton, in the course of 
that same day. 


320 


CA TALINA. 


‘*I consider Catalina the luckiest girl in the whole 
school,” said another girl. 

“Hurrah for Catalina, Art Student!” exclaimed a 
third. “ May she live long and her name flourish !” 


THE END. 





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